


Paper Dragons

by Pennstram



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Bartender Merlin (Merlin), Believe me or not there will be a happy ending, CEN Merlin, Cat Kilgharrah (Merlin), Childhood Sexual Abuse, Depressed Merlin (Merlin), Drug Addiction, Everyone thinks Arthur is crazy, F/F, Fluff, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kilgharrah's an asshole, Leon/Gwen mentioned briefly, M/M, Nurse Gwen, Only Arthur remembers, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Psychogenic Amnesia, Self-Hatred, Sexual Assault, Will edit tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennstram/pseuds/Pennstram
Summary: So that was it then. Last page, shut the book and shove it away on a shelf to collect dust for the rest of time. The End? The great story of the mighty Emrys and the great Once and Future King ends in a dull 21st century hospital with neither dead yet still not together? He thought their friendship was more than that. Went deeper than that. No. He wouldn’t accept that, couldn’t accept that.Arthur woke to a world he didn't know, with memories he shouldn't have. To those he loved not knowing him. Why should he remember the past but no one else does?
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 74





	1. Three Years

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again... this time with something a bit more complex. I'll be posting as I get chapters done, but I have no set posting schedule. Arthur finally returns and remembers his past in Camelot... the only issue? He's the only one who does. This is his attempt to make Merlin remember, and he'll do whatever it takes. 
> 
> I promise the chapters will be longer, this is just the introductory.  
> Props to those who get the Wyllt reference.

__

_”I can’t lose him! He’s my friend!”_ The words echoed through him, there but not. Ebbing and flowing around his consciousness as the darkness consumed him. He tried to reach out but couldn’t, his limbs no longer responding. Exhaustion overtook him and the warm nothingness called sweetly to him. He tried to claw his way out, to get back to the one who called him so desperately. Warmth enveloped him and refused to let go. It was funny. He had always assumed death would be cold. Unforgiving. Stealing him from this world, but this-- this was not that. It was comforting. It was a promise of future return, if only he would sleep now.

_”Arthur!”_

A soft light emitted from the darkness. A lovely pale hand reached out for him and a smile could be heard in the words, “Sleep now, Arthur Pendragon. It is your time to finally rest.” He didn’t know why but there was such a soothing quality that he couldn’t help but obey. His hand wrapped around the other as he stepped forward. The ringing cry of his name, there, but not. Fading in and out as he tried to turn back to it. The woman who spoke held fast. “You must let go now, Arthur.” But that voice. Merlin… That hurt and pain and desperation. How could he sleep when it was causing him so much anguish?

“But Merlin--”

“Merlin will be there when you wake, Your Highness.” Will he? He turned back to the woman and let her lead him further into the dark. How could she promise such a thing? The bone deep tired pulled at his mind again. It wouldn’t be so bad… would it? To just float away? Let himself finally have the rest he was never allowed in the waking world? It was with that thought that he finally breathed out, and cleared his mind. _Arthur…_ It was with that soft whisper that he let himself finally sleep and the warm nothingness welcomed him home.

“Arthur?” It was like slowly waking from a dream. Was it a dream? It had to have been, there was no way he’d be waking again if it wasn’t. The warmth started to melt away and the blank nothing started growing hazy. He could hear a strange noise but knew not where it was coming from. That voice called his name again. It was a voice that called back his memory but he couldn’t place. The sound continued, like a slow high pitched call from a tree frog he’d heard in Ealdor once. With a final push of strength he reached his consciousness to his limbs.

His hands twitched. The blankets under them are strange to his slowly waking mind. “Arthur?” The voice was louder now, pulling him forward. He knew that voice. Where did he know that voice from? His eyes stung as he forced them to open, only to slam shut again as bright white light hit him. He must still be dead. That light, so unnatural it couldn’t possibly be reality. “Arthur! Doctor!” Slowly he forced his eyes open, blinking back the pain from the light. As the room came into focus he knew he had to be dead.

The sound was now loud in his ears. A constant beep. Pause. Beep. Pause. Beep. There was a sharp smell that he could only describe as medicinal, though it was unlike anything he’d ever smelled in Gaius’s quarters. The room itself was… strange. Polished white stone floors, smooth stark walls containing weird tapestries that made no sense. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, the glass bulbs clear enough to see through, there was no fire. Surrounding him were contraptions making the sound. A long tube ran from one to his right arm where it disappeared into his skin. A sharp pain flashed through his head and he couldn’t stop the groan that came out as he clenched his eyes shut.

The sound of a door opening and the quick tap, tap, tap of heels on the stone forced his eyes open again. Dark black hair filled his vision as the person who entered threw their arms around him. An almost suffocating aroma of floral perfume surrounded him, a smell that was so familiar from a time long past and his eyes suddenly shot open. Morgana? She pulled back and Arthur could see tears welling behind bright green eyes. “Morgana?” His voice cracked at the end but she only smiled wider and nodded quickly. Reaching over she picked up a glass from the table beside him and handed it over.

“Oh Arthur, I’ve been so worried.” It was choked out and the sound felt so wrong. So unlike the last time he heard her voice. So unlike that final battle. It was as if they were children again. As if they cared about each other again, as if she cared again. Blinking rapidly he shook his head and tried to push her further away. She looked almost hurt, and he wanted desperately to bark out a laugh but he couldn’t get the sound out. It was that moment that another person entered the room. He was an older man, short greying hair and a strange outfit of plain blue clothes and a white coat. He nodded to them and set about looking at the contraptions Arthur was tied to. There was rough scribbling and the man straightened up and shuffled to stand beside Arthur’s bed.

He pushed his spectacles up higher on his nose and said in a soft gruff voice, “Ah, Mr. Pendragon. Welcome back, I have to admit I was starting to worry there for a while, but your vitals are looking good. I’ll get this to Mr. Wyllt to update your computer file, and he’ll be in to answer any questions you have later on. As I’m sure you have plenty.” He flipped a paper he was looking at and smiled at Arthur, his eyes crinkled over the cloth covering his lower face. Arthur could only blink back. His words only made half sense and that which he did understand only served to confuse more. He nodded slowly nonetheless and it seemed to appease the man.

On his way out the door he turned to Morgana, “Ms. Pendragon, make sure he is to stay in bed. It’ll do no good to cause anymore stress while he’s just coming around.” She nodded with a watery smile and shut the door softly behind him. The second she turned back around Arthur pulled himself up on the bed and as far back from her as he could. The hurt look flickered in her eyes again as she slowly approached and sat in the chair at the foot of his bed.

They stayed like that for the longest time, neither saying a word as Arthur took in her strange attire. She wore a white blouse and a deep green skirt. An almost see through green scarf was draped around her pale neck. It was not the flowing royal silk gowns she had worn in Camelot, nor the elegant dark lace from her banishment. It was simple, yet he could see in her eyes and the set of her painted lips, a command for respect. “Where is Merlin? Where are we if not Camelot?”

Confusion clouded her eyes at his demand and she slowly shook her head. “Who’s Merlin? Camelot? What on Earth are you talking about?” She asked finally. Arthur could hear his heart beating quickly in his ears. She was playing dumb. She had to be. There was no way she didn’t know who his servant was. Yet as he looked into her lost eyes realization slowly dawned. Whipping his head around to look at the room again the panic started rising and he felt like he was about to be sick.

Where was he? _When was he?_ The room was starting to spin. That woman promised. In order to fall asleep he had accepted that Merlin would be waiting when he woke. Well he’s awake now. Where was his wayward sorcerer. His throat felt like it was closing up and he choked out again, “Where is Merlin. He’s supposed to be here. They said he would be waiting for me.” She promised he would be here. Morgana quickly got to her feet and rushed to his side, eyes searching his face as she gently laid her hands on his shoulders. “I need to find Merlin.”

“Arthur-- Arthur, stop!” Her voice cut like a knife and he froze, panicked eyes snapping back to her. That was familiar. That sharp tongue that demanded silence. That could destroy your strongest defenses with just a word. He was vaguely aware he was gasping and his hands were shaking where he’d bunched them in the stiff blankets. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears from his heart beating so loud. He tried unsuccessfully to pull away from her. The need to get away so strong, but his body was just too weak. A sound horrifyingly like a sob slipped out and he clenched his eyes shut again. “Arthur you need to calm down. You’ve been in a coma for 3 years, things are going to be jumbled for a while.” That froze him in his spot.

Three… years? Coma? That wasn’t right. He _died._ He knew he did. “No. No no no. I died. I died and am now back?” Why… why didn’t she remember it? “Morgana… What-- What’s going on?” The off white blankets draped over his body was suddenly the most important thing in the room to him. When she spoke again he refused to make eye contact, refused to acknowledge what she was saying as the truth. It couldn’t be.

“You were in a car accident in 2017, Arthur. You’ve been in a coma for three years now. We--” Morgana’s voice choked up and he could hear her press a dainty hand to her mouth before continuing. “We didn’t think you would ever wake back up.” Car accident? That didn’t make sense to him. No, he died from Mordred’s sword. He died on the shores of Avalon. He fell into an eternal sleep in Merlin’s arms. There was no accident. No car-- and yet, bright flashes of a memory he shouldn’t have, didn’t have, played through his mind.

A blurry road, hands gripping the wheel, sobs racking his body. A red light he didn’t see through the tears. A deep blaring truck horn. Screeching of metal as it was bent around him, window glass shattering. Sirens blaring in the distance, bright blue eyes begging him to stay awake. Then darkness. Warm nothingness.

Arthur let his hands fall open and the blanket fell flat again. “Dad’s funeral.” It didn’t make sense… how could he have these memories of a life he knows he didn’t live? His father, King Uther, died in Camelot by Morgana’s hand. He died over 1500 years ago. He didn’t die in 2017 of a heart attack. Yet he remembered it all. This fake life he supposedly lived now. He finally looked up from the hospital bed and at his sister’s face. “I-” his voice failed him and he could only frown again. “I don’t understand.”

“I expect you won’t for a while still.” The new voice gripped at Arthur’s heart and _squeezed_ his whole body seemed to go numb. His gaze flew to the door just as Morgana stood and rushed to greet the new comer. Gwen stood there, her purple and paisley scrubs looking out of place in the image he remembered of her. Dark eyes sparkled as Morgana hugged her tightly before she gestured with the clipboard in her hand. “Mr. Wyllt is unfortunately unavailable today so I’m stepping in. I didn’t think either of you would be opposed.” She smiled and it crinkled her eyes in much the same way it did back then. Arthur felt his throat tighten again and he could only nod as she launched into their findings.

He tried desperately to pay attention. He really did. It could have held the answer to what was going on with him. Though he seriously doubted it. “There will be some bits of memory issues, as with most head tramas. However, that should rectify itself within the next few weeks.” Gwen was explaining to Morgana, who was just nodding along. Arthur almost stopped paying attention when his sister’s next comment pulled him back.

“That could explain the ‘Merlin’ thing.”

“Merlin thing?” Gwen questioned, pulling out a pen and flipping the paper over. “Explain it to me please?” Arthur clenched his jaw and balled his fists again. Morgana told her what had happened when Arthur had first woken up. Gwen nodded with a contemplative look on her face as she made notes in his file. With a thoughtful hum she finally looked over at Arthur. “Not to worry. Your subconscious probably heard the name while you were out and that was the first thing you could properly remember. It shouldn’t be an issue.” Tapping her pen on the clipboard a couple of times as she thought about something, but whatever it was she didn’t say it out loud.

With another smile, her face smoothed out to an open friendliness that first made Arthur fall in love with her. Once upon a time in another life. He knew she was no longer his. He knew she never was in this time and never would be. That pain of knowing made his heart ache and he mourned the wife he’d never have again. “Do you have any other questions for me before I leave?” Gwen asked kindly, eyes soft. Arthur didn’t trust himself to speak so he merely shook his head, eyes downcast. He heard Morgana thank her quietly as they both exited the room, the last thing he heard was Gwen mention that he’d be clear to leave tomorrow morning if all went well overnight.

Arthur pulled his legs up to his chest and rolled over on his side, minding the IV in his arm. His vacant eyes stared at the window on the opposite wall. He wished the dark nothingness would take him back. He wished for this to be a dream. It had to be a dream. Why else would _Morgana_ and Gwen be here but not Merlin? He felt his eyes slowly slip shut as Morgana returned to turn out the light. She came over and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering for him to have a goodnight before she turned and left. As soon as the door clicked shut he felt the tears start to roll down his cheeks.

The warmth of sleep took him in and he dreamt of hazy yellow sunrises and sleepy blue eyes. Of Camelot’s spires in the distance, red flags fluttering in the summer breeze. He dreamt of burning dragons made of fire and chiming laughter. Of blue neckerchiefs and red cloaks.

The sound of a crash startled him awake. Jolting up, he instinctively reached for his sword only to remember it wasn’t there. He whipped his head around to the door, unable to see much through the small window. It was still dark in the room but the soft glow beyond the door told him the hospital staff was there. “I’m so sorry, Allison!” a muffled voice exclaimed, alarm bells were going off in his head but Arthur couldn’t figure out why. “I didn’t see you over the boxes, here let me--”

“It’s fine Mr. Wyllt. I assure you.” A kind older woman’s voice cut off the rambling, “Please lower your voice, patients are sleeping.” Arthur couldn’t help the snicker as the first voice, Mr. Wyllt?, apologized yet again, much softer this time. That voice was so familiar. So very familiar that he knew it had to be someone from his past. That is, someone he’d known in Camelot. It was that same recognition from Morgana and Gwen. The voices moved away from his door however and he let out a sigh of resignation. Whoever it was he’d have to find out later on.

It was just as he was laying down that a messy head of dark hair passed in front of his window, the person’s ears sticking out from the curls. His heart stopped. “Finally out of the ER today then?” The woman’s voice asked. There was a pearl of laughter but he couldn’t make out what Wyllt replied. His chest tightened and he attempted to scramble out of bed only to have his IV drip fall over in the process. Cursing he picked it up quickly and ran to the window. Heart beating in his ears he looked out and watched as Mr. Wyllt pushed open another door and disappeared. That brief glimpse was enough to see the wide smile and bright blue eyes.

All the air in his lungs rushed out and he felt like he was suddenly drowning. Unable to get enough oxygen as his mouth dropped and his hands shook against the door. He slowly turned around and pressed his back against the cool metal before sliding to the floor. Eyes wide he stared at the window to the outside where the sun was just starting to rise.

He was here. He was right down the hall. He was here all along. He... had no idea who Arthur was either.

“Merlin.”


	2. Camlann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments guys! I hope I don't disappoint.
> 
> Song mentioned at the end is 'Never Stop' by Safetysuit  
> Please be aware of the change in tags/rating!

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the floor in front of him. His hands had finally stopped shaking, and his breathing had returned to normal, but his mind was still reeling. Merlin. Idiotic, clumsy, endearingly sweet _Merlin_ was right there. He was within Arthur’s reach. He gulped and glanced up out the window as a hawk flew by in the distance. The sudden bright light made him squint and drop his gaze again. He didn’t remember.

A sudden sharp knock on the door startled him into scrambling away back toward the far corner. His eyes were wide as the knob turned and the door was shoved open. He felt the shift in the air before the person fully entered the room and his heart stopped again. The machine he was connected to started beeping faster again but he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge it. There was a rush of what Arthur could only describe as pure electricity, power… _magic_ shifting the air around him as the person, _Merlin_ , pushed his way into the room.

“Good morning, Mr. Pendragon!” Merlin’s voice was light and chipper and Gods, Arthur wanted to cry, his accent was thicker, strange to Arthur’s ears, his face scruffier but it was unmistakably him. He held a tray of food in his hands and as he glanced around the room his wide smile melted away to confusion. Arthur felt his body start shaking again and as those bright blue eyes found him on the floor a choked out sob came out. Eyes widening Merlin rushed over and set the tray on the bedside table. “Mr. Pendragon? Are you alright?” He reached over and placed a soothing hand on Arthur’s arm, another sob.

The magic in the air crackled and the feeling of finally, and home washed over Arthur, but if Merlin felt it too, he didn’t show it. The warmth seeping into his skin from Merlin’s hand was a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. Arthur gulped and could only stare at the hand as Merlin tried to gently get him to his feet. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and he couldn’t focus on what the other was saying. Only on the soothing sound of the voice from his past. “Arthur?” Blinking rapidly he tore his gaze away and looked up into hesitant blue eyes. “Let's get you back up into bed, yeah?”

A slow forced nod, then he was being pulled up to his feet and steered gently toward the bed. Merlin’s magic curled around him like the softest of winter cloaks, the feeling forcing memories of Camelot back to the forefront. Of lazy summer days sprawled out along riverbanks, Merlin’s bright pearls of laughter, of his own indulgent grin as butterflies took over his belly. Of sharp winter mornings curled up in soft furs to chase away the cold, pale hands curled in his sleep tunic. He felt Merlin’s concerned look before he actually looked. He felt the warm tears before he was even aware he was crying, his heart felt like it was breaking. Crumbling worse than when he’d seen Gwen.

This was Merlin. It was ridiculous, he shouldn’t feel so lost while looking at him. He shouldn’t be choking on the past. Yet here he was. Tucked up in a too stiff hospital bed, drowning in his own memories. “Arthur? Is there anything I can get you, sir?” Just like that the damn broke. Sir. It didn’t hold the same weight as it once did. Didn’t have the same teasing bite that ‘Sire’ once did. It was pure concern. Concern for his patient. Not his master. Not his Prince or King. Not his friend.

Arthur reached out and yanked him closer. Merlin let out an undignified squeak as he was manhandled to where Arthur could wrap him in a hug. His face pressed into his once upon a time friend’s neck. The tears were flowing freely now and he knew he was soaking the neckline of Merlin’s scrubs but he couldn’t stop it. Tentative hands came up to rest on his shoulder blades and Arthur clutched him tighter. The simple touch was so familiar, so welcoming. Magic pulled at his heart strings and he was weak to stop it. This reminder of the past stole his breath away and he hiccuped out another small sob. This was Merlin. The slight hands ran soothing circles over his back and the memory was broken. This was Merlin, but it wasn’t.

Not _his_ Merlin.

“It’s you.” Arthur whispered out as Merlin finally pulled away. His eyes locked on the blanket and he felt shame burn his cheeks. “I can’t believe it’s you…” His servant, no… that’s not what he was anymore was it? His nurse gave him a slight, confused smile as he straightened up and smoothed out his scrub top. His name badge flipping around and settling where Arthur could finally read it. Next to his photo were the words _Merlin Wyllt_ Under that a bright blue RN tag with a CEN printed next to it. A tiny sticker dragon was peeling on the edge. Merlin shook his head and pushed the bedside table over toward Arthur, forgotten food still sitting there.

It was so ridiculous. So _Merlin_ that Arthur felt tears well up again.

“Are you alright?” The concern in his voice numbed Arthur. It wasn’t the concern he was used to. It left a dry, sandy taste in his mouth and his heart ached. He could only nod as Merlin frowned at him. Thankfully he didn’t say anything if he saw the tears though, merely went about checking the machines. Arthur picked up his spork and poked at the almost plastic looking eggs. This couldn’t be the future the druids spoke of. This couldn’t be the golden age he was supposed to have brought about. A soft touch on his arm startled him into looking up, Merlin was quietly taking the IV out of his arm.

He smiled down at Arthur after bandaging the small incision, one hand picking up a folder off the side table, the other resting on Arthur’s arm still. There was a gentle smile on his face and a kind look in his eyes. “I know things are scary right now, but it will get better soon enough. Your memories and thoughts are still jumbled.” Arthur’s lip quivered and he could only nod as his throat tightened. Merlin gave his arm one more light pat before pulling away and moving towards the door.

Before he realized it, before he could stop himself Arthur spoke, “Emrys?” It was simple. A soft question of the name the Druids gave him, insignificant to anyone who didn’t know. To anyone else in this strange new world, but Merlin froze in his step. He turned back slowly, one hand on the door knob the other holding the file limp at his side. His brow was furrowed and there was a burning question in his eyes. For one hopeful heartbeat Arthur thought maybe, just maybe, Merlin had felt his own magic pulling him back toward Arthur. Back toward his own buried memories. That hope was doused when Merlin frowned.

“Have we met before?” He asked, “I haven’t gone by my middle name since high school.” Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat. That was that then. Wasn’t it? He was back. The Once and Future King. Without Emrys, without Merlin, by his side. The imploring look Merlin was giving him made him jerk his head, eyes flicking to the window. Somewhere he could hear a faint screech of laughter from a child. What could he really say? He’d be lying if he said no, to Merlin and to himself. Yet at the same time he couldn’t really tell him yes right? He couldn’t very well spill the whole truth. Heaven knows that’d be the fastest way for Merlin to leave his life forever.

“Yeah…” He muttered softly, finally settling on a half truth as his stomach churned and ice settled in his bloodstream, “A long time ago.” The sound of feet shuffling was dim in his ears and it wasn’t until a weight settled on the end of his bed that he looked back. Merlin was fidgeting with the papers, biting his lip and his brow furrowed. Hesitantly he looked over at Arthur and he could feel the magic begging to be released. Vaguely he wondered how Merlin did it. How he locked away his own magic, his own memories. He was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth wasn’t he? How could something so trivial as memories cause such a rift? Maybe he didn’t forget on purpose. Maybe time was just unkind. Maybe time could do the same to him.

It took another minute for Merlin to finally speak, licking his lips nervously he finally said, “I’m not sure what you want me to say to that.” The lilt to his tone echoed wrong in Arthur’s ears and he almost missed what Merlin had said. When his words finally sunk in though Arthur realized with a cold dread that he’d said the last bit out loud. He’d mentioned Merlin’s magic outloud. His own memories and the ones everyone else has forgotten. He could see Merlin’s hands anxiously picking at the metal clasps on the folder before he set it down on his lap and turned fully to Arthur, lips pursed and gaze hard.

“Gwen made a note in here,” He nudged the file again, “that you asked for ‘Merlin’ when you woke up.” He bit his lip as he hesitated and then, “Look, Mr. Pendragon, I don’t know who it is you think I am… but I’m not--” He ran a frustrated hand through his already messy hair and the humorless chuckle cut through Arthur. “I’m not him.” He was though. Gods Arthur wished he could yell it at the man, to force him to remember. To drop all of this nonsense and just _remember_ , who he was, who Arthur was. Who they could be again.

“You are him though, Merlin. My Merlin. My warlock. Please you have to remember.”

Merlin shrugged uselessly and looked away again. Arthur wanted desperately to pull him back into his arms and never let go. To make him see who he was to Arthur, even if he didn’t remember it himself. “I’m just the emergency nurse who found you at that car crash. That’s the only reason you remember my name. Trauma does that to people.” There was an almost hollow sound to his voice that made Arthur blanch. Merlin looked back at him then and his eyes were deceptively vacant. Whether Merlin knew the truth or not didn’t matter. The cold resolve there told Arthur his words wouldn’t break through. “I’m not some special person you think you need.” He stood suddenly, hands falling at his sides. “Your vitals all look good, Mr. Pendragon. You’ll be free to leave at noon.”

Arthur couldn’t bring himself to stop him as Merlin went to the door and paused. It wasn’t his place to make him stay. He had no authority over this Merlin. Over any Merlin. Not anymore. Head bowed and Arthur’s file clutched in his slightly shaking hand Merlin sighed finally as he opened the door a crack, “Whoever you think I am from the past,” He glanced back, expression almost pitying, “That’s not me. Please, it’ll be better if you just let it go.” Then he was gone. The soft beep, beep, beeping irritating Arthur the second silence enveloped him. That wasn’t how he’d hoped seeing Merlin again would go.

With a frustrated groan Arthur flopped back on the bed and glared angrily up at the ceiling. So that was it then. Last page, shut the book and shove it away on a shelf to collect dust for the rest of time. The End? The great story of the mighty Emrys and the great Once and Future King ends in a dull 21st century hospital with neither dead yet still not together? He thought their friendship was more than that. Went deeper than that. No. He wouldn’t accept that, couldn’t accept that.

The door creaking open caught Arthur’s attention some time later as he was standing in front of the mirror. He needed to shave, the scruff on his chin and neck sent a wave of nausea through him. It was wrong. All so very wrong. His grip on the porcelain tightened and he let out a long, slow breath. “Hello, Morgana.” The woman in question stepped over beside him, a canvas bag in her hands. He could see a folded sweatshirt on the top. She quirked an eyebrow as they both stared at his reflection, but neither said anything for the longest time. Arthur dropped his gaze and took the bag from her.

As he turned away to the water closet she finally spoke. “I heard you talked to Merlin Wyllt.” Arthur hesitated for a second before he clenched his jaw and disappeared behind the door to change. His breath came out in a shaky huff once he could no longer see her and he hoped she’d just drop it. However, much like the her of the past; she didn’t. “Care to explain what exactly happened?” He slipped the soft jeans and t-shirt on, refusing to acknowledge her question. The soft tap, tap, tap of her heels on the linoleum however told him she wasn’t giving up. “Arthur, he refused to come back for the discharge. He asked to have you transferred out of his care.”

Arthur grabbed the sweatshirt and stuffed the old clothes in the bag before exiting and brushing past Morgana. Her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed dangerously as he sat on the bed to put his socks and trainers on. “I’m concerned, Arthur. That boy has been taking care of you almost religiously since the accident. He saved your life that day and after speaking with you once he suddenly doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore? I don’t believe that.” She came to stop in front of him, hands on her hips. “What on Earth did you do?”

“I told him the truth!” The anger came rushing out all at once and he threw his shoe away after the knot in the laces refused to come undone. The crack in his voice gave way to shaky wet inhales as he tried desperately to get his emotions under control. It felt like something was stuck in his throat and his eyes burned and his hands shook and he couldn’t get the breath he needed and it didn’t matter anyway. Because Merlin, his Merlin, was lost to him. Because Merlin didn’t want him, didn’t need him like the legends foretold. He saw Morgana’s black shoes stop in front of him and her perfume enveloped him as she laid a hand on his shoulder, the other holding his untied shoe out. “I told him the truth, and he left. He didn’t remember me. No one remembers me.”

He took the shoe from her with a dejected sigh and slipped it on. When he finally looked up her face was unreadable, “You don’t believe me either though.” Morgana’s eyes softened and she sat beside him on the bed, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Arthur, it’s just... “ she looked at a loss for words so she settled for a small shrug. “You’ve had a lot happen. You’re not in your right mind, but we’ll fix that. We’ll work on it and make you better. I believe maybe somewhere in the past you met and seeing him again, even if it was only briefly before you fell into the coma brought that memory up. It’s only natural that your mind would use someone you already knew for these--” She hesitated and glanced over at him as Arthur stiffened beside her, “fantasies.”

“They’re not fantasies, Morgana!” He screamed, jumping to his feet and storming across the room to grab the mobile she’d left of the table for him. He shoved it and the hand holding it in his pocket, jaws clenched, he grabbed the canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, or why I can remember it, but I do.” He was fuming and he could feel his face burning as he spun on his heel and made toward the door. There was silence behind him that he was almost thankful for. Almost.

The hand grabbing his wrist like a vice stopped him before he could even reach the door knob. “That’s enough.” Morgana snapped at him, voice cold and harsh. “I get it. You’re confused. You’re scared. This delusion you’ve tricked yourself into believing though? Bullshit. When we leave this room, this hospital, you need to stop.” Slowly he looked over his shoulder at her fuming face. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t mean to yell and fight with you when you just woke up but you need to let it go.” She trailed off at the end, hand slipping off of his wrist.

In retrospect he understood where she was coming from. If it was someone else telling _him_ they were from a time long past he’d think them mental too. Arthur bowed his head and let his anger melt away in a rush of air. “You’re right,” the bag shifted in his hands and he shrugged, “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just…” the words got stuck as the intense wave of _wrongwrongwrong_ washed over him. “I’m just confused still.” Maybe he could make himself believe it if he tried saying it enough.

He let Morgana lead him from the room and had to stifle a bitter laugh when he saw the hospital logo. If she heard him, she didn’t say anything. ‘Camlann Medical Center’ The vague memory of the words on Merlin’s ID tag made itself known and Arthur faintly wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. Scratch that, he knew exactly why he hadn’t focused on the words. How could he have focused on something so insubstantial when _Merlin_ was right there? Now though? The full irony hit him like a truck. He died from that battle, of course it’d be the place of his return, wouldn’t it?

Once they were tucked away in an elevator his sister finally sighed, her shoulders slumped and she regarded him sadly from her spot against the wall. Arthur could only manage a slight smile that he hoped was convincing enough for her to drop whatever was going through her mind. It apparently wasn’t because her painted frown only deepened. “You know I’m only like this because I care about you, right Art?” The nickname sounded weird in his ears and he wasn’t sure he liked it but he brushed it off. It was just another thing he’d have to get used to. Another wedge reminding him that this wasn’t his life.

The door dinged and opened to let people on as he nodded, not daring to let himself speak, lest he say something wrong. He kept his gaze on the ground as someone stepped in after a moment and a warm rush of feeling crashed through him. “Good morning, Ms. Pendragon.” Arthur froze and he could feel his heart rate speed up, hesitantly he looked up, the magic gently caressing him. Merlin had shuffled in beside Morgana, eyes steadfastly refusing to look at Arthur directly. “Mr. Pendragon.”

“Oh please, Merlin, I’ve told you, call me Morgana. You’ve cared for my brother this long. I thought we were past formalities.” There was a smile on her face and a tease to her words and Arthur could only watch as Merlin gave her a return smile, his eyes crinkling. It was like being doused in a frozen lake in the dead of winter. Those eyes, that smile, once only given to him, now directed to Morgana. Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, bright green eyes locked on him.

It was sharp and pointed and dared him to speak, and if Merlin picked up on it he didn’t show it. “Of course, Morgana.” Merlin winked at her with a stunning smile and to Arthur it was 1500 years ago and they were on the steps of the Citadel. And Merlin’s soft gaze and warm smile was all he could focus on. And that echo of a day he wasn’t sure even existed was what he held onto as the elevator dinged and opened. He was desperate to keep his Merlin close, even as Merlin Wyllt bid them both a quiet goodbye and turned in the opposite direction. The last lingering look at Arthur pulling him apart at the seams as Merlin walked away from him yet again.

By the time they were in the car park Arthur could feel Morgana’s irritation prickling over him. When they finally tucked themselves in her dark red Roadster she finally snapped. “You need to stop looking like you’ve been hit by a truck everytime he walks in the room.” Arthur let out a bark of humorless laughter and turned his withering gaze on her.

“I mean I was hit by a truck so--”

“Arthur Pendragon.” He lifted his hands in surrender before shrugging and turning away to look out the window. He could see his own reflection, hollow and warn and so very lost. Everything was different, and wrong, and yet… so was he. It was no wonder no one could see who he really was. In this moment, he couldn’t even see it.

“It doesn’t matter though now does it? He transferred my care to Gwen didn’t he? What are the chances I’ll actually see him again?” Behind the wheel Morgana tapped her fingers, lips pursed but she said nothing in reply. Letting it drop at that, Arthur leaned his head against the window and watched the dim city melt by.  
\--

It wasn’t that he was hiding. He didn’t hide from anything. Well… except spiders. And his elderly neighbor Susan who kept trying to grab his bum. And his own past but that was completely besides the point. The point was, Merlin Wyllt was not hiding. Especially not from a patient he’d been caring for, for the past three years. It was a completely ridiculous assumption, and if he just happened to have to do some very important things before leaving instead of walking out to the carport with the Pendragons then that was his own business.

“Merlin! Whatever are you still doing here child?” Nora, an older woman who worked in the maternity ward asked in surprise as he pressed his back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. Blinking in surprise he looked up at where she was standing at the information counter. Merlin grinned sheepishly, hand slipping down to rest against his neck. Raising the file folder he held as an excuse.

He knew she didn’t quite believe him, given the skeptical raise of her eyebrow, but he also knew she wouldn’t push it. “Sorry, Nora. Must’ve taken a wrong turn. I’ve been so scatterbrained lately it’s ridiculous.” The laugh was forced, even to his own ears but he couldn’t be bothered to try and sound more convincing. Pushing away from the wall he turned on his heel and all but sprinted back down the hall. _My Merlin. My warlock._ Those four simple words kept repeating themselves in his mind. Over and over and over and _over_ again.

Without really paying attention to his surroundings, Merlin clocked out, dropped the file at reception and wandered outside. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag as he cast his eyes up to the sky. It had grown dark and grey and he silently cursed as raindrops started to sputter on him. Tugging his scarf closer to his neck he sighed and trudged over to the far corner of the lot. The little blue beater sputtered a few times as it tried to turn over. Slumping back in his seat Merlin groaned and pressed one hand against his eyes. Bringing the cigarette back up to his mouth he let out a long groan. Rubbing his temples with one hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other.

Pressing the 1 on speed dial Merlin pressed his phone against his ear and propped his right leg up on the seat. A curl of smoke rose from the lit end between his fingers and he watched it absently from under the edge of his hand. “Hello? Merlin? Are you alright?” The familiar feminine voice answered almost instantly and Merlin felt himself grin.

“Hey, Gwen, yeah, no I’m fine. It’s just--”

“Car’s dead again?” His hand slipped from his face and he stared at the ceiling with a wide sheepish grin he knew she couldn’t see but could very well hear. He finished off the cigarette and flicked it out the cracked window. Her laugh on the other end of the line caught his attention and the faint sound of keys tinkling reached his ears. “I can be there to rescue you in about 10 minutes?” She questioned, he could already hear the door clicking shut behind her. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You’re a life saver, Gwen.” Merlin laughed, and then a light click as the line went dead. Sighing he let the hand holding his phone slip to land in the passenger seat. Letting go of his phone he pulled both hands to wrap around the knee pressed to his chest. _It’s you._ Arthur Pendragon. He thought he knew all he needed to know about the man from his sister, and yet. Merlin’s frown deepened and he picked at a piece of lint stuck to his scrub bottoms. Yet here he was, claiming to be someone impossible.

He was an enigma shrouded in mystery and it frustrated Merlin to no end. Still-- here he was, claiming _Merlin_ to be something special, someone special. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t him. It never was and certainly never will be. _’You’re a failure who will never amount to anything.’_ The parting words from his father echoed through him and he dug his nails into the fabric as he clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t some magic wizard. He wasn’t someone who was needed. Especially not by someone of Pendragon’s social standing.

Arthur may not be the King he proclaims to be, but he was still a Lord, even if he didn’t remember it himself. He dropped his forehead to his knee and groaned. He was just a simple Emergency Nurse. He didn’t need this. Didn’t want this. A knock on his window startled him and his head shot up. Gwen waved through the rain, a wide smile on her face. Quickly popping the hood, Merlin opened the door to slide out and hug her. “Oh thank God. I thought I would have to walk home.”

Gwen laughed and shook her head, “You know I can never leave a damsel in distress.” She tutted before turning away to hook her jumper cables up to her car. Merlin took the other ends she offered to him with a quiet thanks. It took 3 tries before his car decided to stay on long enough to detach from hers. As he dropped the hood again he was vaguely aware of the rain slowing to a few light drips and he couldn’t help but frown at the sky. Gwen came over to stand beside him and looked up as well. “Why are we glaring at the heavens?” She asked finally and he snorted out a laugh.

“Because.” And he left it at that as he pat the pale blue car and turned to leave. She only shrugged and followed him around to the driver's seat again, hand trailing over the now rain shiny car. Merlin pulled the door open and folded his arms over the top. Leaning over he propped his chin on his arms and studied her. She was wearing a purple sundress, dark hair braided with silk flowers (now seemingly melted to her hair from the rain), her makeup had been done, though clearly needed refreshing now. “You’ve got a date.” He accused her without heat, and was satisfied when she flushed.

Shuffling nervously she crossed her arms over her chest and grinned. Trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. Merlin was happy for her, she deserved to go out and have fun and be happy. And just like that he felt it. The shift. The slip. And he knew he should be happier, to express his happiness for her, but he couldn’t get his face to obey. He knew his expression had morphed into one of sadness. And he knew the instant she noticed. Her hand was warm on his arm and her concern was palpable. “I can cancel if you need me too…” She trailed off as Merlin shook his head slightly and leaned back.

“No.” He said quickly, placing one hand on hers. “Gwen, no, you deserve this.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she could see it. Merlin ran his thumb over the back of her hand once then pushed away from the door. His shoulders cracked at the movement and he shrugged. “I’ve a shift at the pub tonight anyway.” She nodded slowly, a frown still present on her pretty face. It didn’t look right but he knew she was just worried about him. Always worried about him. It made him almost sick to his stomach. “Who’s this mystery person anyway? Do I know them?”

It wasn’t until he sat back in the driver's seat that she spoke again, clearly nervous about it. “Yeah you do.” That was intriguing. Gwen wasn’t one to usually be nervous about mentioning her newest beau. Then, just like getting punched in the gut and getting doused with ice water all at once it hit him. Even before she spoke the name and he could only stare at her as she shuffled her feet and tucked a stray hair that escaped her braid behind her ear. “You were right, Merlin, She is really quite lovely.”

“Morgana?” He forced a smile, which must have been convincing enough because she didn’t look instantly guilty. “Morgana Pendragon? _Lady_ Morgana Pendragon?” She flushed and smiled sheepishly, indulgently. He had to admit, they would be a striking couple, and Morgana _was_ really was sweet once you got past her rough, classy exterior. Now that he thought about it she was also awfully sweet on Gwen. He felt a soft pang in his heart and for the first time that night he truly smiled. “I’m glad.”

“It’s not like the titles really mean anything anymore you know.” Gwen teased back, sticking her tongue out briefly before she resumed her sheepish look, “You’re not mad? I know things are kinda strained now that Arthur woke up.”

Merlin clenched his hands around the steering wheel and bit the inside of his cheek. Right. There was still that. It wasn’t his place to tell his friend she couldn’t see the woman though. He wasn’t so heartless that he’d sabotage her happiness because he was ~~hiding from~~ avoiding the other Pendragon sibling. “I’m not mad, Gwen. Honest.” He flashed her a soft smile. “Have fun tonight, yeah? Text me all the deets!” They both laughed as she shook her head and shut his door.

As she turned her back on him and climbed back into her little yellow bug his face fell again. He was happy for her. In some warped way, he was. It just hurt to show it. To acknowledge it. He pulled out another cigarette with trembling hands and pressed it to his lips. Arthur’s words probed at his consciousness and he shoved them away with a growl as he pulled out of the parking space. God he needed to get laid. That had to be it. It was just a cute guy thinking Merlin was someone he loved from the past messing with his emotions. Yeah. That was it.

He made it to the Rising Sun about a half hour before his shift started and he sighed, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His agitation had melted away in the shower earlier. Now he just felt lost again. Lost and empty. Maybe his father was right, maybe he wasn’t meant to amount to anything. His hand drifted over to the small forget-me-not tattooed on the inside of his wrist. Mom would’ve known what to do. What to say to make the hurt go away. The humorless chuckle grated in his own ears. He fucked that one up too though, didn’t he?

He wanted to just go home, drink an overabundance of whiskey, get high, and go to bed. As the night wore on it only made him want more and more. The usual customers really paid him no more mind than usual. Aside from one or two very drunk, very brash strangers testing their luck with taking him home; it wasn’t anything different than any other night. Yet he felt on edge, even as he laughed and flirted with a pretty blonde and her boyfriend. Even as he politely turned down their very, ahem, generous offer, he could feel a buzzing in his ears and a burning in his heart.

He ended up breaking three glasses that night.  
\--

The flat they entered was dark and quiet when they entered. It was warm, almost suffocatingly so and immaculately clean and Arthur felt the strange wave of nauseousness wash over him again as he sat on the dark red chaise lounge. Morgana pattered around the kitchen, pouring them both a flute glass of bubbling liquid. When she sat in the chair beside him he glanced at the proffered glass with a raised eyebrow. “I just got out of the hospital and you’re offering me alcohol?” He asked incredulously.

A cackle of laughter from Morgana as she rolled her eyes. “It’s seltzer water, you nutter.” Arthur grinned back at her as he accepted the glass, but didn’t drink it. Instead he watched as she sat back and folded her legs to stare back. Her painted nails tapped out a steady rhythm on her glass and he couldn’t help the long suffering sigh that came out. Morgana’s scrutinizing gaze never wavered and Arthur groaned.

“Alright, what?” He demanded finally. She smirked as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. He hated this. She was infuriating, much like she was all this lifetime and her lifetime before. The look she gave him was contemplating and took him apart, bit by bit. Baring his soul to comb through.

Finally she set her glass on the coaster beside her chair and folded her hands over her knees. “I’ve been thinking about how to reintroduce you to life.” His stomach dropped and Arthur sat up straighter, not liking where this was going at all. She tracked his movements with a quirk of her lips and sharp green eyes. “I’ve taken the liberty of finding you a therapist.” The second the words came out he was on his feet.

“Morgana! No!” Arthur all but yelled, hands balled at his side, itching to grab a sword he knew wasn’t there. “I don’t need a fuckin therapist! I’m not crazy!” Morgana regarded him coolly, eyes not missing any reaction. She clearly expected his reaction from him and it made him unreasonably angrier. He stalked away as she continued to watch in silence, as if this was only proving her point. It was after all, wasn’t it? In her eyes, in all of their eyes, he was crazy. A man named after a legend, claiming he was that legendary King? It sounded off even to his own ears, and he knew the truth.

His shoulders slumped as he stopped his pacing beside the wide window. The rain that had been coming down in sheets when they left the hospital was finally dissipating. “I’m not crazy, Morgana. Merlin will know. He’ll understand and tell you.” Merlin will know the truth. He has to. His magic certainly can’t stay dormant now, could it? He was back. Merlin’s magic was only ever for him, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what his friend had said? The only sound for the longest time was the soft tick, tick, tick, from the hall clock. Then Morgana’s heels on the hardwood floor as she stood and approached him.

The hand on his shoulder wasn’t enough to drag him back. Not fully. “Arthur…” She trailed off, seemingly not knowing exactly what to say. At one point in time he would have basked in that glory, of knowing he’d finally stumped her. Now it was a hollow victory that didn’t mean anything. “Please just think about it?” The soft pleading tone shocked him. Glancing at her he let out a long breath. She cared. That’s what it was. She cared about him and here he was so ratass backwards he didn’t stop and think about her at all. They may not have been close at the end, but at one point even back then she cared.

“You think that’ll actually help me?”

“I think... you want to believe this fantasy. You want to put all your faith in this ideal that your life is somehow not right. You want to put all of your love in someone you don’t know.” There was a sharp pang in his chest at the last sentence. No. No no no that was wrong. He did know. He did, he did, he _did._ Didn’t he? There was a strange emptiness that made itself known. “I think speaking to someone will help you work through it. Move on?” He felt sick. Move on? In all reality he knew she was right, that stressing over the past won’t fix the now and yet--

“You want me to forget.” Silence stretched between them, and he knew he was right. The thought made his blood boil under his skin. She wanted him to forget. Forget he was King. Forget his actual past, to live in this strange new delusion. Forget Merlin. Forget magic existed. Clearly, since he remembered, something, someone, somewhere wanted him to. He was given his memories back for a reason. The room was suddenly too warm. Stifling. Suffocating. He had to get out.

“There’s nothing to forget, Arthur.” Morgana snapped, voice clipped. Restrained. She wanted to yell. She wanted to say more and Arthur knew it, they both knew it. He dared her to. Dared her to take out her anger like she always did. Arthur turned away sharply and stormed toward the door. “Where are you going?” Morgana demanded, not moving from her place by the window. She wouldn’t follow. It wasn’t in her nature. For once he appreciated it.

The door was swung open and he was in the hall before he growled out his reply. “Anywhere but here.” Arthur stormed out of the building and down the water logged street before he really knew what he was doing. A cab rushed by and he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. It was a familiar street, a familiar city. At the same time though it was all so wrong. Black roads in place of dirt paths. Grey concrete where bright wood should be. Flashes of the lower town flickered around him, making him dizzy. A pure, unbridled want burned in him. A want for the familiarity only he knew.

Water splashed up over his shoes as he continued walking. He could see the streets, the people, even as they morphed away into something different. Arthur wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, or where he even was. But the void in his chest hadn’t dissipated, even though the ache in his feet was a familiar welcome. It was a reminder of long campaigns. Of adventures with his knights. A warmth tickled his fingertips and he pulled his hands up to stare at them with a soft sigh. How was any of this fair?

Another car sped past, jolting Arthur back to the present. Out of Camelot and into the heart of London. Blinking around him, his eyes focused on a little wooden sign outside a shop front. His heart caught in his throat. The Rising Sun. He’d never seen it here, at least not in this lifetime. Not in this world. Curiosity got the better of him and he hurried along to push the door open. It was a pub, nondescript and much the same as any other he’d been in. The strange feeling of home smacked him in the chest though as he took in the main decor.

All smooth wood finishes, stained glass windows of stylized suns and moons and stars. Patrons sat around small circle tables, nursing beers and glasses of different color liquids. It wasn’t a tavern, wasn’t the tavern, but it was so close Arthur could only fall into a seat in the corner and watch silently. Across the room a game of pool was going on, people stood around it laughing and joking. The longing hit him again as a soft faintly recognizable voice drifted over from the bar. A soft curl of sensation coming with it. No. No no no no no no---

He turned just as Merlin tipped his face toward the bar counter, Arthur just glimpsed his open smile and crinkled eyes before the view was obstructed by a red haired man. Could barely see the dark button down and light blue scarf as he poured them another drink. He couldn’t hear what was being said but the light touches from both the man and his female companion left little to the imagination. Something dark and ugly unfurled in his chest at the sight. How dare they. How dare they touch what was not theirs? What was-- He stopped that train of thought with a sharp shake of his head.

Maybe that was what Morgana was talking about? At the root of it all, Arthur was still wildly possessive of the dark haired man. Of a man he hadn’t even really ever met. He sat there silently, pulling out his phone if only for something to do with his hands as he observed Merlin work. A barmaid waltzed over after ten minutes and smiled appreciatively down at him and asked if she could get him something to drink. He was about to turn her away but stopped and smiled sweetly up at her. “Pint of whatever good’s on the tap.” She nodded, winked and sashayed away, hips swaying in a way he knew was intentional.

It was ridiculous, but he continued to watch Merlin after that. He couldn’t help it. There was a strange kind of beauty and grace that he moved with that Arthur had never really noticed in Camelot. He watched as a burly man sauntered over to the counter and leaned against it. Even in the semi dark lighting Arthur could see the man’s dark eyes hungrily roam over Merlin’s black clad form as the man in question turned to make a drink. Merlin’s voice was saturated with forced lightness as he replied to something the other said that Arthur couldn’t hear. Arthur’s grip tightened on his glass and his eyes narrowed. He could taste blood where he bit the inside of his cheek and he could feel anger boiling in his veins.

A glass crashed to the ground with a loud shatter, the second the man’s hand reached out and grabbed Merlin. Arthur was on his feet, eyes cold and deadly. It was unneeded though, as instantly the dark haired man spun around and backed up. His blue eyes were narrowed and his expression betraying none of his disgust. He snapped something in his thick accent that Arthur didn’t catch. Several patrons around the bar stopped and seemed to move a step closer, all of the stances protective of the slight bartender. Arthur let his shoulders relax as a similar scene unfolded before him.

Merlin, wounded on the ground as the Knights of the Round Table surrounded him. Protecting him as one of their own. He was after all. He was their brother in arms even if they didn’t know it at the time. Merlin, insisting he was fine and their defensiveness was unneeded. Yet the relief was still there nonetheless. A relief he saw mirrored in his gaze now.

One of the larger men strode forward cracking his knuckles. “Bout time for ya to leave.” Scumbag, as Arthur has now decided to dub him, scrambled backwards with a snarl on his face. He was jumping to his feet in the next heartbeat and Arthur tensed again. Burly sidestepped forward, effectively blocking anyone’s path to Merlin. Arthur was startled at the strange image of seeing _himself_ in that same position.

So many times, so many ways. Always the same. He would have laid his life on the line for Merlin then, and he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat this time round too. Merlin was standing back, hands nervously wringing a rag and eyes darting between those on the other side of the bar top. Scumbag growled and took a submissive step backwards before he spat, “Whatever. That scrawny whore’s not worth it.”

The first fist hit before Arthur could take more than a step forward. Burly grabbed Scumbag by the shirt and threw him backwards toward the door. “Don’t you e’er disrespect him like that ‘gain.” He growled, continuing to shove the other out the door. Once they both, followed by a small crowd, disappeared outside Merlin seemed to physically deflate. Another glass slipped through shaking fingers and Arthur could read the curse on his lips. His eyes were downcast and his movements slow as he stooped to pick up the pieces of broken glass. Arthur felt a pang in his chest at the hurt look that stole across his warlock’s features.

Arthur sat back down slowly, realizing he was still standing and his protection was no longer needed as Merlin returned to work. His movements were stiff though. The simple grace and elegance no longer present. Cold, calculated. He was hurting. Arthur wanted to rip that man’s head off. Wanted to make him cry and beg for mercy. He wanted blood, but another look at Merlin made the anger slip away. The blonde woman and her red headed companion were quietly talking to him again, expressions of concern mirrored on them both.

Merlin though was the perfect picture of calm and ease again. Fragile composer and perfect nonchalance. He smiled thankfully at them and muttered something back before gently pressing one hand to the woman’s and turning away, fingers skimming over the smooth bar top. They watched him for a moment more before turning away and leaving, the man’s arm wrapped around her waist. The second they left though Arthur saw the subtle drop of Merlin’s shoulders. The slight frown.

He stayed long after most had already left. Merlin never noticed him, well, if he had, he made no acknowledgement of it. Which in a way was fine with Arthur. He settled with watching, quietly observing this new Merlin. How he moved. How he worked. How he brushed off others flirtations with a darling smile and wave of his hand. The warm curl of magic around him was calming to the point that he didn’t want to leave. The soft melody coming through the speakers pulled at his consciousness but he couldn’t be bothered to really listen more than a few lines.

His heart ached as the reality crashed over him.

_You are my life, my love, my only  
And that's the one thing that won't change_

He’d spent the whole evening, sitting, watching, observing, yet he still felt as lost as the first second he laid eyes on Merlin Wyllt. This was his Merlin. At the same time, he wasn’t his Merlin at all. At last call though he stood silently, and with one last longing look back at the bar he turned and left. He needed to get home. To apologize to his sister. To pretend he was fine. As the door shut quietly behind him the distinct sound of glass hitting the floor reached his ears.


	3. The Falling Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is mostly Merlin centric and due to the subject matter took a little longer for me to write sorry! I will state here: this life is not, has not, and will not be kind to him. Things are going to get very bad before they can get better. Tags have been updated, but I'll post it here too. There is drug abuse, rape and sexual assault of a minor, rape, self-harm references.

To say Arthur was surprised when he got home and Morgana wasn’t there would be an understatement. Though, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She never did take too kindly to him storming out on her. Truth be told, he had felt the same that day she stormed out on _him._ With a sigh he dropped his phone on the kitchen counter and frowned at the two flute glasses sitting there. One still completely full, the other empty with a lipstick smear on the rim.

He dumped them in the sink without a thought and shuffled into the living room. It was… strange. Recognizable, yet not. The white walls and dark wood floors weren’t right. The dark red furniture and golden accented curtains though felt familiar in a warped way. His gaze finally landed on the dark television, his own reflection barely able to be seen. “What the fuck am I doing?” Arthur asked out loud to himself. “Who the fuck am I suposed to be anymore?” The only answer was the soft tick, tick, tick from the clock.

Taking his jacket off, Arthur dumped it on the back of the couch and sunk into the cushions. It was then that something on his coffee table caught his attention. With a frown he reached over and picked it up. Bright red paper, folded into a little dragon form, delicate swirls of pink were just slightly visible. He ran a finger along one wing. He tried to remember where it came from but he couldn’t. He knit his brows together and turned it over in his hands. There weren't any indicators of its origin. No name, no other marks, nothing. It was simply there.

“Gwen left that for you.” The voice startled him and Arthur jerked his head up to look at Morgana as she slowly entered the room. A dark emerald robe tied neatly around her waist and her dark curls wild. So she was there. She must have been in the spare room attempting to sleep when he stumbled in. There was an off look about her face and she approached almost wearily. “Supposed to bring good luck, or something. I think she was just having us on because it’s a dragon.”

Arthur glanced back at it before setting it down. That didn’t sound like the Guinevere he knew, but then again… “Gwen was here?” He asked instead, moving over slightly to let his sister sit beside him. She gave a tight lipped smile and folded herself up in the newly vacated space. She looked almost nervous… but what did she really have to be nervous about? The sound of his own heartbeat was all he could hear for a moment as the dots slowly connected. Oh… Oh. He angled his body slightly to look at her. “How long has this been going on?”

It was a simple enough question. One he knew she could deflect if she wanted too but the light flush on her cheeks told him she wouldn’t. There was something almost easy about it, about the now gentle smile, the softened eyes. “Two months now… officially that is. You know we’ve been dancing around each other since highschool though.” He nodded stiffly, flashes of lingering glances in over crowded halls. Fleeting touches as they huddled beside him during assemblies. So that was how it was now. They had always been close friends, without magic to rip her apart it seemed Morgana finally made a move.

“I’m glad.” Was all he said before they both lapsed into silence. One question burning in his mind. One question he knew he couldn’t really ask. Magic. Morgana’s magic. Did it not exist now? Was it really gone, or just suppressed like Merlin’s? No… it couldn’t be that he realized suddenly. He would have felt it. Like the familiar curl of Merlin’s over his skin and in his heart. There was nothing from her. Nothing but the stinging memories of their past. “I’ll go.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t have to. Her slow nod told him she understood.

Arthur wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but eventually Morgana yawned, stretched and rose to her feet. She laid a hand on his shoulder and muttered a soft goodnight before she turned and shuffled back toward the spare room. Watching her leave he let out another long sigh. It was her. It was the girl who fought tooth and nail to practice with the knights. It was the girl who smuggled food out to the lower town during a time of famine. It was the woman who demanded the right to fight in Ealdor, to fight alongside and for her friends.

It was the woman before life abandoned her. Before life turned its back on her. In a way he was thankful she didn’t remember. This was her new beginning. This was her turn to shine and blossom and _grow._ It was long overdue and he wished he could be happier for her. He wished he could have seen her do the same back then.

Curling back on the couch, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to get up and wander to his room. Couldn’t bring himself to move, to observe this new world, to see how it’s changed. How he’s changed. There was a blanket draped over the back of the couch that he pulled down over himself. The warm black fleece comforted him in a way he wasn’t used to. Not anymore.

> ”Where are we even going?” Merlin’s exasperated voice called out from behind him for the seventh time since leaving Camelot’s walls. Arthur rolled his eyes and urged Llamrei on with just a slight look behind to make sure his friend was still following. He was, though there was an unhappy look in his eyes and a pronounced pout on his lips as he pulled his dark cloak closer around himself, “Arthur,” He whined again, “Arthur, it’s bloody cold. Where are we going?”
> 
> With an exaggerated sigh Arthur twisted in his seat and leveled Merlin with an unamused stare. “Look, I’m trying very hard not to ruin this for us, but you’re making it very, very, _very_ difficult not to turn around and deck you.” His friend’s grin finally cracked the pout and a bright pearl of laughter stole Arthur’s breath away. It’d been so long since the two had been able to get away from the castle. Away from the Lords, and Ladies and Knights and servants. So long since they were just able to be themselves. Be together like this.
> 
> Merlin spurred Hengroen on to trot along beside Arthur. They rode in relative silence, until Merlin started shifting uncomfortably in his seat after about 10 minutes. He was pulling his cloak closed tighter and burying his nose into the neck when the next whine came out. “Seriously though, Arthur, I do appreciate you taking the time out of your day for me but I’m dying here.”
> 
> Arthur rolled his eyes and stopped abruptly, Llamrei whinnied unhappily at the sudden change. Jumping off her side, he grabbed the blanket draped across her back and stalked over to where his Court Sorcerer was still perched. His eyes followed the King wearily, but still he made no attempt to move. Even as Arthur climbed up on Hengroen’s back and settled in behind him.
> 
> The dark wool blanket settled around Merlin’s shoulders and Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist to take the reins. He could feel Merlin stiffen slightly under his touch and could only roll his eyes. Of all the things, that’s what would embarrass the younger man? With a huffed laugh Arthur laid his chin on Merlin’s shoulder, “Better?”
> 
> With a slight nod Arthur felt him relax back against his chest as the tension melted away. Merlin tilted his head just slightly enough to press against Arthur’s cheek. Winter cold hands wrapped around his in the warm confines of the blanket. The King could only smile and bury his nose in the warm wool at his sorcerers neck.
> 
> Merlin was right… it was bloody cold.

Morning came with a muted stream of light through drawn blinds. Arthur blinked slowly at his surroundings, sometime in the night he’d sprawled out over the sofa, one arm over the back, legs splayed starfish along the other end. The blanket was tangled around his legs and he frowned down at it. It wasn’t the same blanket, it couldn’t have been realistically, but it was close enough.

As wakefulness settled in his limbs his frown only deepened. That— dream. It could never have happened. It wasn’t a memory he remembered, and yet it felt so _real_. Except… in his reign, Camelot never had a Court Sorcerer. Merlin was never given such a title, such a high position. They were never lovers. Unlike the feelings coursing through the dream so suggested they were.

The sound of the espresso machine going off pulled him from his thoughts long enough to look over to the kitchen. Morgana must have started it before leaving earlier as there was no one there, but a sticky note could be seen. With a low groan Arthur sat up and rubbed his temples. Right. So it was going to be a long day.

Memories of the dream faded away as he shuffled over to collect his drink. He pulled the note off the machine and glanced at it briefly. **’Drink this and be a normal human. Meeting with Dr. Smith at 3. Don’t be late. XOXO Morgana’** There was an address and phone number on the back and he sighed, recognizing it as one of the therapists she had listed yesterday. 

He downed the scalding shot in one gulp and glanced at the stove clock. 12:30. He’d slept well into the afternoon. If he had a better grip on reality he would have laughed at the irony. Hundreds of years later and he finally got to sleep in. Right. Step one of his new life, take a bloody shower. Running a hand through his hair he headed toward his room to gather clean clothes. 

Yet the second he opened the door he wished he hadn’t. The strangled noise that came from his throat shocked even him. It was his room. Granted, much smaller with wood floors instead of stone and clear glass behind red drapes instead of the patterned crystal but it was his. The desk, the four poster bed, the old wardrobe. The sword mounted on the wall. His eyes were drawn to it, frozen on it. The silver blade mingling with gold at the hilt. The words in a language long forgotten, yet he knew he’d be able to read them now. 

“It can’t be.” Arthur whispered, walking over and laying a reverent hand on the cool metal. What should have been cool metal, instead it felt warm to the touch and a rush of finallyhomeperfectFINALLY raced through him. Of course his sword would be the only thing to remember him. Go figure. “Excalibur.” It was mounted in a perfect dark wood shadow box, little gold dragons embossed on the sides. He didn’t remove it. Didn’t even touch it more than that first brush.

There would be time for that later. The gloomy cloud settling over him reminded him of it.  
\--  


“What’s been up with you lately?” Merlin blinked in confusion before looking over at his friend, Gwaine had one brow cocked and his lips pursed. He seemed to almost be studying him and Merlin elbowed him in the ribs. He didn’t answer though and he knew the other wouldn’t let it drop. He pulled the joint up to his lips and took a long drag, hoping without hope that for once Gwaine would do him a favor.

Finally he muttered out, “Nothing, just been busy is all.” Another long drag, a feeble attempt to keep himself from having to talk anymore. “Been pulling doubles at the hospital then turning around and working at the bar. I’m just tired.”

No such luck as the smoke was punched from his lungs as Gwaine shoved him over. “Come off it, Merls. You’ve been distant.” The taller brunette took the rest of his joint and finished it up off in three quick hits. Merlin mourned the loss even though he could already feel his body tingling. Sure he didn’t need it, but he wanted it okay?

They sat up and pressed their backs against Merlin’s ratty old sofa, legs stretched out in front of them. Merlin pulled the bag of potato crisps off the table and into his lap. Taking his time eating a small handful he thought over what he really wanted to tell his friend. “I don’t know— ever since Arthur woke up things have been… weird.” Merlin said finally, watching the colors filtering through his stained glass window dance around his feet. “Like I feel like I’m trying to live underwater. Seeing but not really? Things have just felt weird too. Like— enhanced or something you know?”

Gwaine was quiet for a long time, his own hand reaching over to take handfuls from the bag, then snorted finally, “How much have you smoked recently, mate?” He pauses as Merlin turns his wide bloodshot eyes on him, “Or I should say what have you smoked? Wasn’t just the weed, clearly.”

“That wasn’t what caused it.” Merlin grumbled softly. His head was starting to spin and he could feel the weightlessness settling into his limbs. Dropping his head back against the cushions he stared at the ceiling fan. Gwaine took the bag and Merlin could only let him. He could feel the displaced air brushing over his skin, through his hair. Could feel the tingling pull of _something else_ but he couldn’t place what it was. It was a different feeling than what usually came with smoking. It was as if his skin was stretched too tightly over his bones. Must be whatever it was that Degal gave him. He decided instantly he didn’t like it.

To his right Gwaine lit his tiny bong again and passed it to him. Merlin accepted it without hesitation. That, he knew. That, he liked and enjoyed. It felt good. To just let go, to let the drugs take over his body. It was comfortable and familiar in a way the other stuff wasn’t. It made everything seem so small. So insignificant. He also knew this was Gwaine’s way of letting the topic drop and he was grateful. Reaching over he patted around for the crisps bag and frowned when he found it empty.

By the time his friend left, Merlin was… for a lack of a better word, useless. He was still sitting on the floor, he wasn’t really in control of his limbs anymore and that was just fine. It was only 2 in the afternoon, he didn’t work until 8 that night. He could afford to just sit there and enjoy the high. Except there was a tingle that ran through his fingers and up his arms every few minutes. It was pulling him back and he vaguely wondered if it was whatever he took this morning coming back to finally kill him. It’d serve him right, he knew better than to accept anything from that snake of a man.

Closing his eyes he let out a long breath of air. On the inhale he choked though. There was a burning taste in his mouth. The air was hot around him, burning his lungs and eyes. He couldn’t breathe properly. The putrid smell of burning wood and flesh strong in his nose. His eyes shot open and for a minute he was in an old style crowded courtyard. A man was tied to a wooden pyre, burning as the flames covered it. A face he knew, a face he was intimately familiar with. _He was burning._ Smoke swirled in his lungs, suffocating him from the inside out. The itching in his hands begged him to do something, anything, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

His terrified eyes had just locked on another equally scared, equally familiar pair above him when the image melted away and he found himself staring at his reflection in the dark television. Kilgharrah wound around the edge of the sofa and watched him with wide yellow eyes, his fluffy head tilted just so. Merlin blinked as his vision blurred, belatedly realizing he was crying. Which explained why his normally elusive cat had shown up. The little beast always appeared when he started crying. Whether to help soothe him or for entertainment, Merlin wasn’t sure.

“I’m okay buddy.” He croaked, reaching out to scratch at his cat’s chin. “Just a bad trip. I’m okay.” But the words sounded hollow even to himself and Kilgharrah continued to watch him in the unnerving way he always did when Merlin got upset. It was soothing in a way, to have that constant still in his life. Kilgharrah made an impatient barking noise, one that Merlin usually took as an insult, and swatted his finger away. The little sparkly caps on his nails are the only thing protecting Merlin’s skin from certain destruction.

Merlin frowned at him, face morphing into a pout after a minute of them staring each other down. “Do not speak to me in that tone of voice. I’m already having a bad time, I don’t need your sass too.” He grumbled as Kilgharrah flicked his tail in irritation. The dark grey cat let out another gruff chirp, turned around and waddled away. As if he was calling his master an idiot not worth the time. Merlin watched him go and his head thunked back against the couch again with a sigh. “Yeah. Me too, Kil, me too.”

When his alarm finally went off at 5 he groaned and swayed forward to rest on his knees. How had it already been that long? His head was still cloudy, and his limbs heavy, but the happy high from earlier had slipped away. It always did though, he knew that. Even with the cocktail of drugs in his system. How was he so messed up that he couldn’t even get high without fucking it up. With a bitter laugh he pushed himself up off the floor, swaying slightly as blood rushed to his limbs leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Merlin stumbled into the bathroom and leaned over the sink, knuckles white where they gripped the porcelain. His eyes were bloodshot, dark purple circles under them maring his pale face. His hair unkempt and wild. Shakily Merlin let go of the counter and ran a hand through it, the small flower tattoo over light scars flashing in the mirror. His face twisted to a self deprecating grin and for just a moment he was 14 again.

14 with pale red lines crossing his arms. 14 with a dark purple bruise covering the right half of his face. 14 with blood washing down the sink, from the split in his lip and on his nose. From the cut on his arm. Vacant eyes looked at the drain and for just a moment he thought he could still see it. Churning slowly before slipping away. Clenching his jaw, Merlin turned away abruptly. He wasn’t that child anymore. He wasn’t ashamed or scared of who he was. He wasn’t subjected to his father’s abuse anymore.

Steam fogged up the bathroom as he flipped the nozzle over. Merlin pointedly looked away from the razor sitting innocently on the edge of the tub. Instantly he felt silly about it. He was a grown ass man now. He wasn’t the broken hearted little boy who couldn’t trust himself. If he neglected shaving today, well, that was his own business really. Besides, he was still too cotton headed to deal with shaving anyway.

By 6:30 he was rushing out the door, the hoodie he hastily pulled over his head making his hair stand on end. Car keys in one hand, lit cigarette and phone in the other. He had wanted to leave by 6 so he could stop at the tiny cafe down the road. Ravenswood made the best portobello sandwiches, especially when he was still feeling the leftover munchies. But his quick hop in the shower turned out to be another half hour trip where he kept seeing himself, drowning. Over and over. And when it wasn’t him, it was watching a boat float away in a lake, a feeling like his heart was being ripped out floating away with it.

It was safe to say he spent the next half hour with his face pressed into Kil’s fur as he sobbed. The unamused cat simply lay there and took the abuse. Seemingly knowing Merlin needed it, badly.

As soon as he got to his car though, that plan flew out the window. It wouldn’t start. Smacking his head on the steering wheel, Merlin hissed out a quiet ‘fuck.’ By 7 he admitted defeat and wrapped his scarf around his neck twice before getting out and slamming the door shut. With a final glare at his useless vehicle he took off down the street. The only blessing was that it was for once, not raining.

He kept his eyes on the ground as he sped toward the Rising Sun. Granted, he could have taken the bus or a cab even, without having to rush. He had plenty of time, but the idea of being around other people right now? Not high on his list of wants. He turned down the familiar alleyway, letting his mind wander as his feet took him where he needed to go. It was that reason, he’d decide absently later, that he didn’t see the person until they had him shoved up against the wall.

Merlin’s eyes flew open in shock and confusion as the air was forced roughly from his lungs. His phone went skittering across the ground as his hands came up to grab at the hand tight around his neck. Eyes darting between the hand and the man's sneering face, Merlin tried to choke out a demand for him to be released. The grip only tightened and the man leaned closer, breath smelling of alcohol and cigarettes wafted across his face and Merlin gagged. Seeming to take pleasure in his reaction, he growled out, other hand coming up to grab Merlin’s hair and force his head back, “Where are your little bodyguards now, eh, whore?”

Fear surged through every nerve ending as a frightened whine forced its way past the suffocating hand. He could feel the edges of his consciousness growing fuzzy already. So that was it. That’s how he was going to die. It was funny, growing up he always assumed he’d be the one to take his own life. But no— here he was, murdered for not accepting one customer's advances. Here he was, another hate crime statistic. At least, he knew, that’s what they’d spin it as.

His eyes were starting to flutter when the hand at his throat let go to grip his shirt. “Oh no, my little bird, I want you awake for this.” The snarl was enough to snap his attention back, the words enough to make him sick. Oh. And there he was, 14 again.

Shoved up against the cold metal in the boys locker room. Valiant had his forearm against his throat, face twisted as he leaned forward. “Heard ya are one of them fae varieties. Heard you went out with Du Lac.” He sneered, “What? My dick ain’t good enough for you, little bird?” Tears were welling in Merlin’s eyes as he tried desperately to wiggle away.

Valiant pressed harder against his windpipe in response. “Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use.” He growled before shoving Merlin to the floor. Merlin tried backing away, tried making a dash for the locker room door but Valiant was stronger, faster and bigger. The smaller boy was pinned to the wall and Valiant brought his face in close, pure unfiltered hatred burned in his eyes as he grabbed Merlin’s jaw and forced his mouth open.

“I said, little bird, suck my fucking di—“

“What’s going on in here?” Merlin could almost cry in relief as Lance opened the door. The sophomore frowned as he took in the scene before him, then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Let him up. Now.” Valiant gripped Merlin’s jaw tighter for a fraction of a second before abruptly shoving his face away.

He stood stiffly, and growled down at Merlin, who was still shaking on the ground, “One day, little bird, one day, no one will be around to rescue your sorry ass.” Cold dread seemed to seep into his very core at the words even as Valiant spun on his heel and left. Not before roughly shoving Lance into the door frame on his way out.

Then Lance was on the floor at Merlin’s side, and the younger boy was sobbing into his friend’s shoulder. And it was okay, because he was okay. Because Lance saved him. Because someone stepped in and saved him.

But Lance wasn’t here. He couldn’t save him. No one could save him. And he knew Valiant saw the fear in his eyes as he leaned over and hissed, “No ones here now, little bird.” Pain shot through his legs as his knees hit the concrete and Valiant shoved him back flat against the wall with a single kick to the chest. Merlin felt the blood trickling down his temple long before he felt the stinging pain.

He screwed his eyes shut even before Valiant grabbed his face and forced his mouth open. Even before he heard the zipper. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he refused to open his eyes even before he was being gagged. For the first time in a long time, he actually, legitimately wished for death. He prayed it would be over soon. That Valiant would tire of this game and just fucking kill him. Maybe he would just pass out, forget it all happened. Repress the memory like so many before. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t, and he couldn’t.

A broken sound echoed through the alleyway as Valiant grabbed his arm and shoved Merlin back flat against the ground on his belly. His arm hurt where it was being twisted up against his shoulder blades. His legs hurt where Valiant was pressing his full weight on them, shoving them open. His throat hurt, his head hurt, his eyes hurt. The sudden cold rush of air on his skin caused another broken sob. His body hurt.

It was rough, and spiteful, and angry, and Valiant took no care in ripping Merlin apart. Piece by broken piece. He cried, he begged and screamed and it all fell on deaf ears. Where was anyone? Surely someone should have heard and come to investigate. Surely someone should care. “That’s it, sing for me birdy.” Valiant growled, forcing Merlin’s hips up to force himself in over and over again. He bit down on the back of Merlin’s pale neck hard enough to break the skin as he came. No one did. No one showed up, no one cared.

Merlin could feel the blood snake down around his neck. Could feel the disgusting liquid ooze from him when Valiant shoved himself up. “You tell no one of this, pet. Or I will find you.” Merlin struggled to pull himself into a ball as the man left. He pressed a balled fist against his mouth and bit down to stifle the sobs threatening to spill. With his other shaking hand he yanked his pants up the best he could in that position and covered the bite mark with a hand.

And he was 14 again. And one of the popular girls from school was dumping something in his drink at a party he didn’t want to be at. Was laughing as she pushed him on the bed and his legs refused to move. His body is heavy and unresponsive to his own will. Snarking at him that if he told anyone she’d say _he_ raped her. He was 14 and choking on tears as she took her own pleasure from him over and over.

And he was 15 again. 15, alone, naked and scared on his friend’s couch. Will’s father told him it was their secret. That if Merlin ever told anyone he’d tell the police what really happened to Merlin’s mother.

And he was 15 again and his first boyfriend tied him to the bed and fucked him even after Merlin told him to stop, begged him to stop. Even as Merlin cried that he didn’t want to do it anymore. As the harsh voice told him if Merlin really loved him he’d let him use his body any way he liked.

And he was 13 again. His own father shoving him angrily against the backseat of their car. Taking all of his anger and frustration out on his young teenage son. Spitting tiny half truths at him, breaking him down. Breaking him apart. This was the only thing he was good for. He was a stain in their family. Merlin was the reason he drank. His body was the only good thing about him.

They were right. Every single one of them was right. He must have deserved this. Somewhere in time he wronged someone and deserved this punishment. It was a desolate thought as he crashed back to reality and his phone started buzzing on the ground where it’d been dropped earlier. He could see Gwaine’s name flash across the screen. He knew he must be late to work by now. Knew that was why his friend and boss was calling. Yet he felt bile rise in his throat at the unbidden thought, why couldn’t he have called sooner?

The second the phone stopped vibrating he reached over and picked it up with shaking hands. 8:15. The icon for a new text message popped up and Merlin thumbed it open as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. He winced at the shooting pain that ran through him. **_where are u merls?_**

**_Car wouldn’t start. On my way. Sorry_ **

He didn’t mention Valiant. Didn’t mention the assault. Or the aches in his body or the pain in his head. He just didn’t. Gwaine didn’t need to know. No one needed to know. He pulled at his scarf to cover the bite mark, the fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the blood grown tacky. Not then, not now. What he didn’t say was that his head still hurt. His legs and knees and arms hurt. That his body hurt.

That his heart hurt.  
\--  


The moment he stepped into the immaculate entry, Arthur knew this wasn’t going to end well. It was perfect, calming, orderly, and just so very _dead_ inside. Tugging his jacket closer to his body he strode over to the reception desk. The blonde woman glanced up at him before putting up one finger and returning to her call. With a sigh he leaned against the desk and watched the other patrons bustle about.

Everyone seemed to be in such a hurry and Arthur felt a fondness creep over him. It was like the castle at Yule. Everyone on the move, no one paying attention to anything other than their own work. Merlin prattling on and on about pointless court gossip. About what presents he’d gotten for Gwen and Gaius. About what he’d gotten Arthur. Closing his eyes he let himself sink into the memory for one indulgent minute. Then the woman was tapping his arm and pointing at an uncomfortable looking chair.

It was clear he’d be waiting. It was ridiculous, but as he sat on the chair, right leg shaking he realized instantly that this wouldn’t help. Glancing at his phone he frowned and pursed his lips. 3:10. Once upon a time it would have been treason to make him wait like this. When he was King. When he mattered more. His foot stopped tapping. He wasn’t the King anymore though. He was just a normal person. Granted, everyone thought he was crazy but that's besides the point. A normal person.

Without a second thought he pushed himself to his feet and took off toward the door. Behind him he thought he heard the woman call his name but he didn’t stop to look back. He didn’t need this. He didn’t even want this. He knew who he was. Standing up straighter he smoothed out his coat, he may not be their King anymore, but he still had his dignity. Arthur stopped just outside the building and stared up at the weak early spring sun. It felt so different, yet so familiar.He turned and started down the street without really thinking of where he was going. Morgana was going to be pissed anyway, no sense trying to spare her rage. It was a reminder of when he was young.

Going on his first hunting expedition. Training with the knights against his father’s will. Running away on an adventure because Merlin looked sad for over 3 days. Playing in the creek behind their big estate, Morgana splashing him and teasing him. Them both being scolded by their nanny when they got sick 3 days later. Football tryouts freshman year. Watching a strange dark haired boy in the bleachers laugh at something one of his friends said. Blue eyes glancing up, seeing him but not.

Arthur froze mid step. No. That couldn’t be right. They couldn’t have really been that close all along. It didn’t make sense. Why on Earth would he just now be remembering? Something bad is going to happen. The nagging voice in the back of his head muttered. Something bad. What was it the girl, Freya, had said once he’d crossed over to sleep? Until Albion’s need is greatest? But the world didn’t seem to be in peril? Not really at least. He shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop their shaking.

This wasn’t good. It only meant things were about to get a whole lot worse… and Merlin still didn’t remember him. How could they take on whatever phantom force was to come if he was the only one to remember the full implications of his return? Before long he found himself standing in a deserted park, the old fountain bubbling away in the crisp spring light. Arthur sat on the edge with a slight huff.

If the plague, both world wars and everything else that’s happened since his death wasn’t enough to bring him back then, why now? Sure, the world wasn’t perfect… but it wasn’t apocalyptic. Hell, he figured maybe Morgana may have been the cause but she was perfect. The perfect, loving sister. Mordred maybe? He hadn’t seen the man yet but knew he was somewhere out there. Pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes he groaned. It was putting him on edge thinking about it.

His phone started buzzing aggressively, finally pulling himself from his thoughts and he sighed. Here we go, and it was such a bitter thought. Arthur knew the only person who would be calling right now, was not be happy with him. Slipping the phone from his pocket he closed his eyes and braced himself.

 _”Where the hell are you, Arthur Pendragon?”_ Morgana demanded the second he pressed his phone to his ear. With an exaggerated eye roll he knew she couldn’t see he pursed his lips.

“Good to hear from you too, ‘Gana.” He tried lightly, the growl from here was heard through the static and he grinned finally. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, just save it. I’ll pay the missed appointment fee, I just-- I got sidetracked.” There was a long silence and he knew she was waiting on something, he just couldn’t pinpoint what. “Okay what? You’re never silent like this when I do something wrong.”

A huff of a laugh and then, _”I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Is that so wrong?”_ And okay, so it really wasn’t, it was just… weird. To have someone actually care about him. A brief flash of brilliant gold eyes fading to blue. Of a smile brighter than the sun. He shook his head to shake the memories away. This life. He needed to focus on Arthur now, not Arthur then.

“No. It’s not.”

 _”So why did you bail on the appointment you agreed to this morning?”_ Ah, there it was. The pointed, very forced nonchalant question he expected earlier. He didn’t answer for a long time, instead he stared at the bubbling water beside him. It was soothing, and hypnotising and bile rose in his throat as it morphed into a wide lake. Quiet sobs in his ear as he was laid in a boat, pushed out to the water, laid to re-- _”Art? Are you still there?”_

Pulled back to the present he dropped his gaze to the ground under his feet. “Look, I don’t know, okay? I just… I was there and then I just couldn’t be there anymore.” Another sad sounding sigh. “I’ll go, I promise, just give me some time, ya?” He pleaded softly, eyes trained on the water beside him.

 _”Yeah, alright. But you need to like, pinky swear you’ll go.”_ It was ridiculous because she sounded so damn serious. _”Any way, I just called to make sure you were okay. It’s 7:45 already and I hadn’t called to let me know where you were.”_ Blinking rapidly he pulled his phone away from his ear to check the time, she was right. How had he lost so much time?

“Sorry, Morgana. I didn’t realise it was so late. I should have called, but I’m a grown adult, I can take care of myself you know.” She started to protest but he cut her off, “I just went for a walk, I’m fine. I’m going to stop somewhere for food and go home. No need to worry.” There was another faint voice in the background and his smile grew fond. “Enjoy your evening, tell Gwen I said hello.”

Gwen’s smile could be heard as she yelled hello back. _”Arthur… Just… alright. Call me tomorrow? We’ll go get lunch or something. Me, you and Gwen.”_ The thought sent a warm flutter through his chest. _”Goodnight, brother dear.”_

“Goodnight, sister dearest.” He parroted back automatically before the line went dead. With a sigh he pulled his phone down and set it in his lap. There was a tingling sensation growing in his fingers and he frowned. Glancing around he confirmed he was still alone. He looked back at his hands and furrowed his brow. That was wrong, that was what Merlin’s magic felt like when he entered the room.

He could feel the shift in the air around him. That was also new. It was like he could feel it, now that he knew it was really there, the magic of the Earth itself. There was something off about it though. It felt almost wrong in a way, tight, oppressive, _scared_. It felt like when he’d tried acid for the first (and last) time at a party in college. It made his skin crawl and heart race. There was a distant tug of feeling he couldn’t quite shake. A frantic nagging that made his jaw clench and his eyes water. It hurt.

Why on Earth did it hurt? Standing abruptly he shoved away from the fountain and shoved his phone back in his pocket. The normally soft caress was prickling and stinging and demanding. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

The city was a blur around him and before he was really conscious of the decision, he was standing in front of the Rising Sun. He knew it must have been close to 9, the sky was dark, the warm lights were all flickering on along the mostly deserted street.  
\--  


The second Gwaine laid eyes on him, Merlin knew it was going to be a long night. He slipped in behind the bar and went to clock in but Gwaine’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Are you okay?” The concern was palpable in his voice and he could feel himself tremble as he held back. A nod he knew his friend didn’t accept or believe, and his hand was being shoved away from the POS. “Look, I know you want to be here, Merlin, but I can’t in good conscience let you work tonight. It’s already 8:30, we close at 10 tonight, you can make up the hours some other day.” He leveled Merlin a long look and Merlin sighed, averting his gaze, but knew Gwaine had already seen their bloodshot state.

“Gwaine, I’m fine. I promise… It’s just leftover-- whatever the hell I took this morning.” It was meant as a joke, he tried feebly to make it a joke. It fell flat as Gwaine frowned. It was a pointless endeavor, he knew they both knew it. He dropped his hand to fall limp at his side. Acceptance. “I can’t go home, Gwaine. I don’t have to work, I just… I can’t go home.”

An arm slung around his shoulders and a quick kiss was pressed to his temple. “Take the table in the corner, I’ll make ya a drink?” Mid nod Merlin froze, eyes going wide before shaking his head rapidly back and forth. Gwaine caught the motion out of the corner of his eye as he turned away and raised an eyebrow. “No drink?” Merlin gulped and turned toward the small swinging door.

“Yes to a drink… just… no alcohol, please? I’m not--” He hesitated, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. The motion sent a jolt of pain down his spine and he jerked his hand away. “I don’t think I should be drinking drinking right now.” Gwaine nodded and seemed to understand, he shooed Merlin back toward the table in the corner before turning to mix something up. As he moved away though Merlin could feel his eyes studying him. He knew he was limping slightly. He knew he was favoring his shoulder. He knew Gwaine caught it all.

It was only a few minutes after he sat down that Gwaine sauntered over, large chocolate shake in his hand. He set it down and Merlin shot a thankful smile his way before popping the cherry in his mouth. To his surprise, Gwaine sat down across from him. Frowning, Merlin glanced around them, there were only a couple other people present and he mentally cursed. So they were going to do this now. “So are you going to tell me what happened now, or do I need to keep coming over and bugging you until close?”

Merlin groaned quietly, masking it with a long sip of his shake. His hand slipped back up to his neck almost unconsciously. Gwaine’s eyes tracked the movement as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine, okay? Just let it drop.” But there was no heat behind it, and they both knew it. With fingers tapping on the table top the other man pursed his lips before dropping the chair legs back on the ground and stood up. Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise, he didn’t figure that would work.

Apparently Gwaine followed that train of thought and quirked a small grin, “Ah ah, you’re not getting off the hook that easily.” With that he maneuvered around the table and plopped down beside Merlin. Folding his hands on the table Gwaine stared at him and his smile softened. “Figured whatever is wrong it’d be better if I were closer, wouldn’t have to talk as loud.” A warm rush of affection coarsed through him and Merlin felt tears welling up in his eyes again. “Also I need to be able to see the bar.”

It was a joke, and Merlin forced a grin but it didn’t reach his eyes. After a minute or so of fiddling with the straw of his shake he closed his eyes and muttered, “I got attacked on the way here.” Beside him Gwaine stiffened. Glancing up from under his lashes he took in the horrified expression morphing his friend’s features. “It isn’t that bad. I shouldn’t have tried walking here while still stoned.”

The look Gwaine was giving him only intensified as Merlin became aware that his hand was still on the back of his neck. He dropped his hand quickly and hoped it wasn’t noticed. It was. He knew it was, but it wasn’t brought up. Instead, “Why didn’t you call me? Are you hurt?” That wasn’t really the question Gwaine was asking and Merlin knew it. _Where are you hurt._ He elected to not answer either, asked or unasked.

He was fine after all. He was used to… this. He couldn’t name it. Wouldn’t name it. That would make it real again and he couldn’t deal with that relapse. Not again. No. He could deal with it by himself, like he always has. The hand wrapping around his wrist pulled his attention back. When had he put his hand back up? “Please, Merlin. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“If I tell you, you’ll hate me and leave too.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out he found he didn’t want to take it back. He was tired. He was hurt. He wanted it to end. Gwaine gently pried his hand off his neck, setting it gently back on the table before he reached back up. Before he could touch his neckerchief Merlin grabbed his hand and searched his face desperately. “Please don’t hate me.” The words only made Gwaine’s face soften and he ran a thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone.

“I could never, Merls, you know that.” With that he moved the dark red fabric and froze. His gaze felt like holes were burning into Merlin’s skin. A tentative hand ran shaking fingers over the inflamed wound. He hoped it had at least stopped bleeding. He let out a choked laugh at the thought. “That’s a bite mark. Merlin, why is there a bite mark?” The hand moved to cup his cheek as the other came up to mirror it. Gwaine’s eyes were wide, his face pale, he knew why.

Tears were spilling again, and he couldn’t get the words out. Eyes clenched shut he breathed, “Valiant… he… he raped me.” The press of Gwaine’s hands on his cheeks slipped and then he was being pulled against his chest, arms were winding around his shoulders. The tears were flowing freely now and he gripped Gwaine’s shirt. “He raped me and I just… I couldn’t do anything.”

“I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll find him, and kill him. You need to go to hospital, Merli--”

“No.” He pulled away quickly, eyes wild as he scrubbed furiously at the tear tracks. “I can’t go there. I can’t let them know. Or let them see me like this. I can’t.” Gwaine ran a hand through Merlin’s hair and looked down at him sadly. That. That look. That’s why Merlin didn’t tell anyone. It was pitying. It was degrading. He didn’t need pity or sadness. He didn’t need the hospital. “I can deal with it on my own. I don’t need them trying to baby me.”

Gwaine’s jaw tightened and Merlin could practically feel the fight in him bleed away against his will. “I just worry about you, Merls. This is big, and horrible, and terrifying and I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Merlin nodded once against his shoulder and sighed, his hands dropped to his lap, thumb running over faded scars. He would be. In time he would be.

“I will be, Gwaine, I promise I will be.” The tiny bell above the door rang out and Gwaine pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Merlin’s head before patting his cheek lightly. The meaning clear; they weren’t done talking about this. He stood and reluctantly moved back toward the bar. Merlin watched him go for a fraction of a second before looking back down at his melted shake. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he pushed it away.

The tight, tingling feeling in his arms and hands grabbed his attention again. Merlin picked up a napkin and absently started folding. He knew it wasn’t the drugs any more. No, those wore off the second Valiant had shoved him against the wall. Maybe he was having a heart attack. The fleeting thought almost made him laugh. Almost. Stress induced nerve misfires more likely, but the thought of dying just sounded so good.

He dropped the tiny napkin dragon, stray moisture getting sucked into the little feet.  
\--  


Electricity shot through Arthur the instant he pushed the door open. With a quick sweep of the room his eyes locked on the reason. Merlin was huddled in the corner, his hands wrapped around a glass and eyes trained on the table. There was something wrong with the way his shoulders were slumped forward. A wave of protective desire crashed over him as he forced himself to look away and shuffled to the bar.

The bartender was helping a pretty blonde at the other end so Arthur sat. He wasn’t sure why he was here really. It was the weird pull again. Still present even after arriving, it made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. He wanted to get up, move over to his, former?, friend. His hands tightened around the edge of the bar. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. “What can I get for ya?” Arthur’s eyes snapped up as the words hit him.

Gwaine was there. Leaning against the bar top, easy smile and roaming eyes. Arthur gulped. He knew there were others. He knew realistically he’d probably find them all again, but each familiar face was like a punch to the gut. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to ask how he’s been, to say he was sorry. Instead what came out was a soft, “Jack and coke.” Gwaine nodded with a smile and turned to mix the drink. “You’re a bartender now?” He asked suddenly, brain only catching up after the words were already out.

In front of him Gwaine’s hand stilled before continuing with jerky movements. He looked over his shoulder, confusion dancing in his eyes and an uneasy smile. “Been one since college?” The statement was more of a question than anything and Arthur felt the growing urge to smack himself. The glass was set in front of him with a decisive click and Gwaine frowned, “You by chance Arthur Pendragon?”

Arthur looked up hopefully, maybe, just maybe he actually remembered? “And you’re Sir Gwaine. Most courageous of all the Knights of the Round Table.” The half smile slipped to a strange frown and Arthur felt his stomach drop. He didn’t remember. He worked with Merlin though, they must get along. With a sickening feeling he realized Merlin probably told the former knight about his strange patient.

“No,” Gwaine started slowly, pushing away from the counter, “Just Gwaine Greene, bartender extraordinaire.” The smile he flashed Arthur was clearly forced before he turned and walked away to help someone else. He could feel eyes on his back and the feeling was like spring blooming after a long winter. It was the warmth of the bright morning sun. Merlin. He turned slowly and was startled to find bright blue eyes staring back.

There was a cloudy look to them though. A red rimmed look. He’d seen it so many times in Camelot. A pain he was trying, and failing, to hide. Grabbing his drink Arthur stood and approached the table where Merlin sat. The pulling feeling lessened and lessened as he drew closer. His warlock's eyes followed him till he stood behind the chair across from him. Then his eyes fell to his hands again where they were fiddling with a folded napkin. “May I sit?” Arthur asked finally. The silence was stretched thin and he figured the other wasn’t about to answer and then a curt nod.

“Look I wanted to say I’m so--” He was cut off as Merlin lifted one hand to silence him. He finally met Arthur’s gaze again and he brought one hand up to press against the back of his neck.

“I know. It’s fine.” It wasn’t though, and Arthur wanted to argue but the movement of Merlin’s hand grabbed his attention instantly. He didn’t seem to realise he was moving his fingers over the fabric at his neck. Nervous habit? But no, Arthur couldn’t remember Merlin having obvious ticks like that. Something else then. “What are you staring at?” His voice was distant, the sharp edge clear but tired.

Arthur forced himself to look back at Merlin’s face and frowned. “Nothing… Just you never had ticks like that before.” He nodded to where Merlin’s hand had stilled. His grip tightened on his neck briefly before he dropped it back to the table. “Is it something you developed after I died?” It was like word vomit. He knew he shouldn’t say it. Knew he shouldn’t ask, but the second he opened his mouth it just fell out.

Icy eyes hardened and then, “You didn’t die. You don’t know anything about my ‘ticks.’ What do you want?” Arthur shrugged helplessly. This was going… very badly. He took a long drink, the alcohol burning as he thought about how to respond. He had to make Merlin see, but at what cost? Did he really want the man to hate him by pushing? Would that even help? He wasn’t sure he could lose him again.

“I just… I want to try and make things right, okay?” Arthur decided finally, tracing over the woodgrain absently. “I like you, Merlin. There’s just something… comforting about you. Something that I know you can feel echoed in me even though you won’t admit it.” He chanced a glance up. Merlin’s mouth was turned down in a slight frown and his brows were furrowed, considering the words. “I want to get to know you. This you. This new, wonderful and brilliant you.”

Movement in his peripheral caught his attention. Merlin was nervously folding another napkin and recognition shocked him. “You made the dragon.” Arthur said suddenly. Merlin looked startled then immediately embarrassed. He bit his lip and Arthur had never seen something so perfect. “The red one. Morgana said Gwen left it for me.” A tentative flash of nerves in his eyes gave him hope, “It was you though.” He should have known. It may have been a play on their last name, but it wasn’t the type of thing Gwen did. It was all Merlin. It may have been word play, but he knew it wasn’t. It was the subconscious part of Merlin. The buried Dragonlord part of Merlin, showing itself in any way it could.

“I gave it to Gwen to give to you.” He muttered with a shrug. “I’ve had you under my care for years now, I… dunno. It felt right to give you something to remember me.” Merlin trailed off, pushing his straw around in a very melted shake. “Even though you clearly wouldn’t have known. You’re right though. There is something about you.” Their eyes met briefly before Merlin’s darted away again.

“They’re so beautiful. Amazing, just like everything you do.” Arthur blurted. “I really shouldn’t be surprised.” He couldn’t help it as he picked up one of the already folded napkins to study. It was meticulously done, each fold perfect and crisp. It was down to a science, a perfectly mastered art form. “Why do you make them?” Merlin looked almost startled by the question and his brows furrowed in thought. Both of them looked at the dragon resting on Arthur’s hand.

Finally Merlin spoke, his voice soft, calculated, “It’s the only thing in life I seem to be able to control.” That startled Arthur and he frowned. What did he mean by that exactly? He was _Merlin_ afterall. He could control anything, anyone, with a flutter of those long lashes and a flash of his smile. Not to mention the vast ocean of power residing somewhere deep in his soul.

“That’s not right though.” Arthur growled before he could really stop himself. “You’re one of the greatest, strongest, most powerful people I’ve ever met. You’ve fought sorcerers, and monsters, and beasts, and an undead fucking army. You’re more in control than anyone I’ve ever met.” Just like that, the easy friendship they seemed to be falling back into snapped. Merlin ripped the napkin out of Arthur’s open palm and crushed it with a quick clench of his fist. Arthur blinked in shock, his mouth snapping shut.

Merlin looked almost… pissed? There was also a flicker of shame, but it was gone so fast Arthur thought he may have imagined it. “This? This control? The ability to destroy anything, anyone, with a flick of the wrist?” It was a bitter laugh, one that grated the wrong way. “Yeah, no. This is the closest I get to anything. I can manipulate the paper, I can destroy it. I can’t do shit about anything else.” There was something in the way he said it. Something in the way his other hand gripped the back of his neck. The normally soft tingle of magic turned sharp, bitter. Merlin’s emotions bleed out in it the same as in his voice.

Fixing his eyes on that point his stomach dropped. The scarf had slipped, moved just enough by Merlin’s constantly moving thumb to expose a large angry red mark. Without a second thought he reached over and yanked the material away. The bile stung his throat as he choked on the words that wouldn’t come out. Merlin scuffled back as far as he could, eyes wide with fear and his hand clamped against his skin. “You let yourself get hurt.” Not a question. He realized he could have eased into it more sensitively, but he couldn’t. “How could you let someone hurt you?”

Merlin looked like he got slapped across the face, and there was a distinct shine in his eyes. Oh no. Oh no no no. It was too late to take back the words though. They’d already been said, already did the damage. “Let myself get hurt? _Let myself_?” His voice was cracking and shaking. He was angry. He was close to tears. Arthur’s heart ached as he realised he’s the one that pushed him to it. The magic wafting off him stung where it ran over Arthur’s skin. Belatedly he realised it was mad at him too.

“That’s not what I--”

“No. You had your chance to talk.” Merlin bit out, voice raising, “Now sit there and fucking listen. I didn’t _let_ anyone do shit.” He slammed his hands flat on the table between them and stood up. “They take and take and take and don’t give a shit about me. I’ve never _let_ anyone do anything.” Arthur could see Gwaine stop working in his peripheral vision, could feel the former knight’s hardened stare. Merlin didn’t seem to notice his voice was carrying, either that or he just didn’t care anymore. The latter seemed more likely in that moment as Merlin wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck.

The storm darkened his eyes as he yanked his coat closed. He was leaving. Arthur couldn’t let him leave. Not like this, but when he opened his mouth Merlin cut him off. “You’ve always been a bit of a golden boy haven't you, Mr. Pendragon? Never stop to think about how you hurt others with those fancy words of yours." It was curt and cynical and drove a knife through Arthur’s heart. He was right. Merlin shoved away from the table, hands shaking and voice choked as he called over to the bar. “I’ll text you tomorrow, Gwaine. I’m leaving.”

“Merlin, please don’t--” but Merlin was already shoving out the door. His words ringing over and over in Arthur’s ears. He was right. Of course he was right. He didn’t ever stop and think, he never did then why would he now? A shiver ran down his spine and Arthur pulled his scarf closer. The blue fabric that was normally so very soft to the touch, prickled and irritated where it brushed his skin. When he had been a Prince, a King, his words were his greatest weapon next to his sword. He knew how to cut anyone down, how to break them.

Merlin was right, he never stopped to think about others feelings. He never considered that the things he said offhandedly to those closest to him could be so hurtful. As he stared at the melted shake he downed the rest of his drink. He was right. He was right. He was _right._

He hurt Merlin. He hurt Merlin without even realising he was doing it. He felt sick. The image of the wound, the _teeth imprints_ flashed in his mind. His warlock was already hurt and Arthur just made it worse. “Fuck.” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.


	4. The Lady of the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin admits his past, Arthur meets a familiar face with dreadful news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so very late and I’m sorry... My Merlin muse was having none of it for the longest time. However we’re finally back on track! 
> 
> If you’re still with me, thank you for reading!  
> Comments are much appreciated and give me motivation to continue writing <3 
> 
> (No art atm for this one as I’m still working on it oops)

_How could you let them hurt you?_ Merlin didn’t want to admit it, but those words cut worse than the blade ever could. He sat on the edge of the tub watching the pink water swirling around his feet and down the drain. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and a horrible sound ripped from his throat. He didn’t let them. He didn’t he didn’t he didn’t but no matter how many times he repeated it, the feeling remained.

Merlin was vaguely aware of a soft brrump as Kilgharrah jumped up to drape across his lap. One large grey foot knocked the razor blade away, Merlin let it slide across the tub. With a trembling hand he ran cold fingers over the unruly fur. “Something in me is broken, Killy.” He whispered finally, his cat was silent but his tail wound around Merlin’s back. “I don’t know how to fix it.” His voice broke on another sob.

The tingling sensation in his fingers spread up his arms. Behind him one of the vanity light bulbs went out, startling him enough to turn and stare at it. Kilgharrah jumped up onto the counter and peered up at the dark bulb before looking back at Merlin. There was such a knowing look in his eyes that yet again Merlin wished he spoke cat.

With a deep inhale and a shaky huff Merlin turned around, wet feet leaving slight pink stains on the bath mat. He refused to look at it. He’ll have to deal with it later, but for now he was content to pretend it wasn’t there. Picking up an abandoned washcloth he ran it under cold water before pressing it against his arm. It wasn’t really bleeding anymore, just red and angry and stinging and he knew Gwen would be disappointed if she sees.

His hand stilled on the small blue flowers at his wrist. “Mum would know what to do.” He told himself once again. She always knew what to do. How to help in every situation. Merlin’s vision blurred and he folded in on himself, cradling his wrist to his chest as a fresh sob ripped from him. She would know, but she wasn’t here. She wasn’t here and it was all his fault.

It was sometime later that the tears finally stopped. The hurt in his heart fading to the ever present ache and he could only feel numb again. Vacant eyes were trained on the tile floors and his thumb ran across his tattoo absently. Not for the first time that morning he saw Arthur’s horrified face. Saw the pain and fear in those deep blue eyes as he stole Merlin’s scarf away. He knew that look wasn’t directed to him. Knew Arthur didn’t mean to be a pig headed prat about it but the look, the words, it stung.

Merlin felt a painful twinge in his heart and his stomach seemed to be tying itself into knots. Arthur saw. He knew, and yet he still called Merlin amazing. Still looked hurt when Merlin pulled away. It didn’t sit right with him. He wasn’t someone people _cared_ about. Yet there he was, saying these terribly wonderful things, making Merlin’s heart race, making him believe they were true.

Arthur was only trying to help, in his own fucked up sort of way. He was trying to make Merlin feel better. Trying to make him see his own worth, even though they barely knew each other. Merlin let out a rough sigh and ran his hands through his hair. He shouldn’t have stormed out when he did. He should have stayed, should have tried to understand Arthur’s line of thinking. Maybe he could have helped him still. He was his patient after all, he was-- but he wasn’t. He wasn’t his patient anymore. He had no reason to help the prat anymore. Had no reason to care except…

There was a sickening swoop in his stomach. A warmth that spread from his fingers to his toes. Except in some fucked up way Merlin did care. It was with that thought that Merlin pushed himself off the edge of the tub and wandered toward his small kitchen. With a shaking hand he grabbed his, now cold, coffee cup off the counter and went to sit at the table. Cold saccharine liquid made his stomach churn as he stared at his phone laying on the table in front of him. He should call. Should call and apologize and try to talk with the man. Should… his hand froze where he’d unconsciously moved it forward.

Kilgharrah jumped up on the table across from him with a condescending meow. Merlin pursed his lips and frowned at the animal. “Don’t start with me right now.” He muttered, quietly thankful for the distraction though. “What do I do? Do I call him? I guess I’d have to ask Gwen to ask Morgana for his number and I guess that’s doable but _should_ I? Is it worth it? What if he actually gets to know me and realizes I’m really not the person he thinks I am? What if…” His voice faltered and he choked on the next words, “What if he decides I’m not good enough too?”

A soft purr, and warm fur brushed against his arm. “You’re useless when it comes to giving advice.” Merlin blandly stated, Kilgharrah didn’t seem fazed by his tone at all. He merely pawed at Merlin’s now empty cup, he looked up and as they made eye contact Merlin could see the gears turning. “Don’t you da--” the cup hit the ground with a sharp crack before he could finish the sentence. “KILGHARRAH!” Said cat brumped and ran off as Merlin jumped up from his seat to avoid the shattered glass. “You’re one step closer to becoming a pair of slippers, cat!” Merlin screeched after the retreating form.

“Useless, asshole animal.” Merlin grumbled as he picked up the broken pieces of his mug. It was as he was dumping the pieces in the bin that his phone buzzed and lit up on the table. Gwen’s name flashing as it buzzed. Well, it was convenient at least? Against his better judgement though, he let it go to voicemail. Honestly he should have answered it, and as he sat down when the screen went dark he felt a wave of guilty nauseousness wash through him.

The next second however Gwen’s name popped again and Merlin frowned. Usually she’d just text if she couldn’t get through the first time, which was, Merlin was ashamed to admit, more often than not. Something must be wrong if she continued calling. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Picking up his mobile he pressed it against his ear with a frown, “Gwen?”

_“Merlin!”_ The pure relief in her voice set Merlin on edge instantly. _“Thank God. Are you alright?”_ His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the question and his hand moved to cover the back of his neck subconsciously. The panic in his friend’s tone didn’t lessen as she rambled on about him not calling her, and how he was an idiot and she was so worried and Merlin’s head started spinning.

Closing his eyes Merlin leaned over the table, “Gwen, Gwen, Gwen slow down. What?” He muttered slowly, though he knew. He knew what she was calling about. How she knew though? He had no idea.

_“Morgana told me you were attacked yesterday.”_

Morgana. Morgana Pendragon. Fuck. _Fuck_. Arthur. Arthur told her? What did he tell her? He had no idea what actually happened. Why would he bother with saying anything about it. It wasn’t any of his business what happened to Merlin. It wasn’t his right to tell Morgana. It... It was getting hard to breathe and his head was spinning and his hands started shaking. He could hear Gwen calling his name, but it sounded so so far away. He felt sick. Who the fuck did Arthur think he was.

_“Merlin. Merlin please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”_ He tried. He really did but the second he opened his mouth the words seemed to lodge themselves in his throat. A pained whine slipped out however and Gwen’s voice shook. _“Merlin, sweetie, it’s okay. I promise it’s okay. No one is judging you or mad at you. We want to help you.”_ Help. _Help?_ Yeah right. People don’t help him. He has to help himself. He always has. He always will, what would make this assault any different then all the others? Where was the help when he really needed it? Where was Gwen and Morgana then? Where was Arth-- _“Will you be there?”_

The question pulled him back and Merlin’s grip tightened on his mobile, brows furrowing as he stared at the table top. He wasn’t sure what she was asking. He knew he should, he should have been paying attention, but he couldn’t focus. Telling her that would surely be the end for himself though. “What, yeah, of course.” He said absently instead. Her sad sigh was almost instant.

_“Ravenswood at noon then?”_ Merlin was quietly thankful for Gwen’s insistent, caring nature that kept her from getting upset with him. The ache in his chest seemed to magnify with a rush of affection. After quietly giving an affirmative that he’d be there, and parroting back Gwen’s soft goodbye he hung up the phone and dropped it on the table.

It wasn’t how he wanted Gwen to find out. Not in the slightest, and truth be told he would have rather her never find out. There was a reason they never really talked about his past. Why he always deflected when she asked about his highschool years, his home life. She knew the basics, that was enough.

Merlin was up and out the door before he let that line of thinking really sink in.

-A-

The cafe was quiet around them, Gwen was speaking in hushed tones into her phone. Merlin’s name frantic on her tongue and the sound made something in Arthur die a little. Once upon a time he would have said it was jealousy. Jealousy that Gwen spoke to another in such a way but now it was only sadness. A deep sadness that something was so wrong that the sound was even warranted. A sadness that he couldn’t do anything to help Merlin like she could.

Across the table Morgana leveled him with a quiet, considering stare. He could see the news he parted on them this morning was wearing heavy on her as well. Could see it in the distant look, the slight frown, the tapping of painted nails on the shining table. “Merlin said he’d be here.” Gwen cut in suddenly, setting her phone down slowly, the lost look was still present on her face. Even as Morgana reached over and wound their fingers together, she looked at the table. “Why didn’t he call me?”

Her voice was broken and her eyes shining and Arthur was glad she didn’t look back at him. He didn’t know. He didn’t claim to understand this new Merlin’s line of thinking. Yet at the same time, he wasn’t really surprised. Merlin had always been one to hide his own pain in favour of protecting others. Of course that trait would have prevailed over everything else. “He was scared.” Arthur muttered finally.

Neither Gwen or Morgana said anything for the longest time. “He was acting on fight or flight response. He was scared and flighty and didn’t want to bring anyone else into it.”

“But we’re his friends!” Gwen cried in quiet anguish, “We’re meant to help him!” Arthur felt like the words turned to ash on his tongue. Felt the weight and the truth of them before he spoke again. It made his stomach turn and his heart ache.

“I’m not his friend. Not this time.” Morgana shot him a sharp look but he shoved it away as he clenched his fists and forced his eyes shut as he repeated, “I’m not his friend. He’s told me it before, and he’ll say it again I’m sure. I’m just a patient he cared for. Nothing more, nothing less.” The bitterness was palpable, his sister moved the hand not holding Gwen’s to rest on Arthur’s arm. He pulled back before it could rest on him though. “I should leave. I don’t doubt he won’t like me being here when he arrives.”

“For once we seem to be thinking the same thing.” Arthur spun around in his chair as Merlin’s gruff voice spoke behind him. Their eyes met and Merlin dropped his gaze to the ground a second later as Arthur frowned. “I’m not going to make you leave though.” Something was off. He hadn’t felt Merlin enter the building, didn’t feel the soft whisper of magic like all the other times they’d met. It was there, the prickling in his fingertips said as much, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t _there._ His heart beat was loud in his ears as Merlin sat on the other side of Gwen.

Nervous energy wafted off him in waves as Gwen hugged him. As she softly, efficiently checked over him with gentle hands. Arthur had already told them both what he’d seen. He knew she knew what she was looking for but thankfully she had enough tact to not rush straight to it. Unlike Arthur. When her hands reached his neck though Merlin lifted his stoney gaze to Arthur, daring him to look away, daring him to say something. It was that defiant spark that drew Arthur to him all those years ago. It was that defiant spark that broke Arthur’s heart now.

Gwen’s choked gasp finally made Arthur look away though. He couldn’t help it. Merlin looked disappointed but not surprised as Arthur’s eyes fixed on the dark bruise covering his neck. It looked even worse in the bright light of day and Arthur felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the sight. “It really isn’t that bad.” Merlin sighed when he seemed to realize none of the other three were going to speak. Arthur watched as he tugged the scarf he was wearing up to cover the mark.

“Not that bad? Merlin, it’s-- you were--”

“I’m going to need you to stop that thought right there please.” Merlin bit out suddenly, wrapping his arms around his stomach and frowning at the table. He looked just so lost and broken. What had happened to him? What happened to make this strong, fearless, amazing man crumble into himself so far? How could he just brush this off as if it were nothing? How could he-- “Look, Gwen, Morgana, I know you guys want to help me but it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll deal with it, I am dealing with it.” Gwen folded her hands in her lap and nodded slowly, clearly not buying it but also not wanting to upset her friend anymore.

When he looked back up to meet Arthur’s gaze again he could visibly see the fight leave Merlin’s body. “Why did you call me here?” Not sure who he was directing the question to both girls looked at Arthur expectantly. Of course they’d throw him under the bus like that. He cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“That’d be my fault.” Arthur mumbled, looking anywhere but toward the sorcerer. “I uh… I may have mentioned to Morgana this morning that I was worried after you left last night.” There was a barely contained snort from his sister and he shot her a glare. Okay, so maybe that was putting it lightly. He didn’t mention how ‘this morning’ lightly translated to 2 AM and ‘mentioned’ was actually hyperventilated in terror. Merlin seemed to understand what he wasn’t saying though.

The next second he was pushing himself up from the table. “Okay.” Arthur felt his heart plummet as Merlin turned toward the door to leave. “Are you going to follow me or are you really going to just let me leave?” It was thrown carelessly over his shoulder and Arthur blinked at the other’s back in confusion. Morgana kicked him under the table and gave him an incredulous look when he continued to sit there. ‘Fucking go’ she mouthed, waving him away with a flip of her hand. Beside her Gwen gave him an almost sad supportive smile.

Finally he stood and watched Merlin give a curt nod and pushed the door open. Clearly he expected Arthur to follow. Clearly he knew Arthur would without question. “Take care of him, Arthur.” Gwen whispered gently to him, he gulped but gave her a small smile anyway.

“Always.”

Merlin was leaning against the wall just outside the cafe when Arthur came out, a cigarette held between two fingers and his eyes distant. “Let's just skip the awkward apologies and forget last night happened, yeah?” Arthur watched the smoke curl up and disappear as he settled beside his former friend. Silence stretched between them after that. Arthur didn’t want to forget it, he couldn’t forget it. He wanted to protect Merlin. Wanted to help him. Needed to help him.

“You know once upon a time you told me you didn’t want to put me in the position of not knowing what to do.” Arthur started slowly, not really sure why he was bringing it up. Knowing Merlin wouldn’t remember the conversation he was talking about but he couldn’t help it. He looked at Merlin’s profile, at his furrowed brow and small down turned frown. “You’re doing that right now though. I know I don’t mean much to you right now, but to me it means alot, Merlin. You mean alot. I just want to help you.”

Silence continued. Arthur felt a cold dread seep through his skin. So that was it. His warlock was just going to brush it away as nothing. Merlin pushed away from the wall finally, with a jerk of his head he turned down the street. “I just can’t figure you out.” He was saying, so quietly that Arthur had to rush to keep up in order to hear him. “One minute I think I understand, then the next you say shit like that. Fine, you want to talk? Why do you care about me so much?” He shot Arthur a sidelong glance as they maneuvered down the street, Merlin not seeming to be watching where he was going, but still knowing exactly where he was.

How was he supposed to answer that? Because Merlin was his manservant? Because he was his best friend? His greatest advisor? He couldn’t tell the man all that. Arthur knew he’d never believe him anyway. Instead he shrugged and went with the closest he could, “I like you. There’s something special about you that I just… I don’t want to see that light put out.” Beside him Merlin was quiet, his eyes were distant again and before Arthur could stop himself he reached out and pressed his hand against Merlin’s. The jolt of magic was almost instantaneous and Arthur wanted so badly to make it happen again. The warmth, the familiarity, the need.

The warlock startled at the touch and stared down at his hand, his mouth open just slightly. Arthur figured he’d felt it too. Did he realize what it was? Did he instinctively know his own magic, even if he didn’t remember he possessed it? Did he realize that a part of himself called out so desperately to Arthur? “I don’t know what it is you think you see.” Merlin muttered finally, pulling his hand away to tuck into his jacket pocket. Eyes resolutely ahead he continued, “That light was doused long ago though.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin’s elbow and forced him to stop and turn toward him. “No.” He repeated, eyes narrowing and his mouth turning down in a frown. “I don’t believe that. There’s something there. I know it, you know it. Something _magical_ in you, Merlin.” For a moment Arthur was afraid he’d overstepped, Merlin looked almost panicked, eyes wide and shining, lip trembling just so. A light brush of magic and then Merlin was looking away. 

“Believe me or not, but you always told me I was destined for something great. You always told me I was something special. Something worth protecting and fighting for.” He broke off to slide his hand down his friend’s arm, stopping just on his wrist, pulse beating wildly against his fingertips. “I believe the same of you, Merlin... Emrys.”

“You can’t say things like that.” Merlin breathed before biting his lip. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what’s happened in my life. I’m damaged. I’m broken. I’m--” Arthur pulled Merlin’s hand up to press against his lips, gaze never wavering from where it held the others. A pinched off sound came from the brunet and the first tears broke through. He was trembling all over now, and in a desperate attempt to stop, Merlin took a step back. His hand slipped from Arthur’s and he could only let him go.

Merlin wrapped his arms around his middle, a move Arthur recognized from the early years in Camelot. A way of self preservation that never really made sense to the then Prince. He understood now. “That may be so, but it doesn’t change what I see in you.” He was protecting himself the only way he could. Building a barrier between himself and what he saw as the enemy. Between himself and... Arthur? “I want to know you, Merlin. In order for that to happen though, I need you to be honest with me.”

Without waiting for a response he continued walking, knowing Merlin would follow when he was ready. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so direct about it. This wasn’t the Merlin he knew. This wasn’t the boy who’d waltzed into Camelot and picked a fight with the crown Prince. This wasn’t the warlock who lived in secret in a world that would have him killed. This wasn’t the man Arthur had loved for so long. The last thought made his mind go blissfully blank for a moment, surely that wasn’t the right word. Surely he didn’t love Merlin. Surely it wasn’t… but then Merlin was walking quietly at his side again and Arthur knew it to be true.

“You called me Emrys again.” That wasn’t quite what Arthur expected. He really figured the other wouldn’t even speak again. Figured he’d just turn and leave eventually, but yet here he still was. Arthur merely shrugged, hoping the other would continue. “Did you know me in primary school?” The question was hesitant, almost as if he dreaded the answer.

“Not as such, no.” This seemed to both pacify and annoy Merlin as his frown deepened. “Can’t we just accept that neither of us are going to like the other's explanation of how we know each other and leave it at that?” Merlin looked about ready to argue but the second they stepped out to cross in front of a narrow alleyway his mouth clicked shut. Out of the corner of his eye Arthur could see his hands start shaking where they pulled his jacket sleeves down further. “Merlin? What’s wrong? What--”

Merlin turned sharply, eyes hardening to ice and jaw clenched as he walked about a hundred feet in and stopped. His eyes were glued to a spot on the ground and his voice shook when he spoke. “You wanted to know me? You wanted to know what happened? Well I’ll tell you.” The detached tone of his voice shook Arthur to his core and as Merlin glared at the ground it was like a fog was slowly dissipating. “I was changing after gym. It was my freshman year and no one really liked me. I’ve always been different. I was alone and Valiant seemed to know it.”

His stomach dropped out and he felt dizzy and he felt sick and he wanted to cry for the man but he couldn’t. He didn’t stop Merlin from speaking either. “He shoved me on the ground. Called me ‘little bird’.” Merlin seemed to choke on the words and Arthur could see tears starting to fall even as he turned his head away from Arthur’s line of sight. “He called me a whore. He told me to suck his dick. He would have raped me back then had Lance not stepped in.” Arthur took a few hesitant steps forward, forcing the sick back down.

Dreading what Merlin had to say, but needed him to say it. Needing to know. “He raped me right here yesterday.” It was gasped out, his distress finally making it difficult to speak. “He choked me. He shoved me on the ground and gagged me and called me ‘little bird’.” There was an angry roaring in his ears and Arthur felt burning in his eyes as Merlin sank to the ground and sobbed. Arthur was by his side in another second, pulling a distressed and breaking Merlin into his arms. “He told me to sing for him. He shoved me on the ground and raped me and told me to fucking sing for him. He bit me when he…when he... Inside me. He bit me like he was laying a fucking claim on me, Arthur. I can’t-- I can’t. Should have stopped him. Should have protected myself better. It’s all my fault.”

The last bit was muffled where it was pressed into Arthur’s shoulder. His arms tightened around Merlin’s shuddering form. “Merlin. Merlin, listen to me. You did nothing wrong. This is in no way your fault. You are not to blame.” Merlin was shaking his head now, trying to pull away from where Arthur had an almost death grip on him. The gasped out sound of his name is what finally made him let go. Merlin scrambled away until he was pressed against the far wall. Gods. He looked like a frightened animal. It was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong all wrong.

Arthur’s heart ached as they sat there, staring at each other across the dark alley. Merlin was scrubbing his cheeks raw, eyes bloodshot and yet still so, so blue. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Arthur whispered softly. Merlin only nodded slightly back. Rising to his feet Arthur slowly approached, palms facing the other in a show of surrender. An almost irritated look flitted across Merlin’s features before he pushed himself up. “I’m sorry.”

“You wanted to know, now you do.” Merlin was headed toward the other end of the alley, his arm still furiously scrubbing at his face. His voice was steady though and Arthur let out a silent breath. He knew that wasn’t the end of Merlin’s tale. Like a stone sinking to the bottom of an icy lake dread made its home in his stomach. No, there was so much more Merlin hadn’t told him yet, but the cold resolve in his voice told Arthur he would. Arthur wasn’t so sure he wanted to know anymore.

They walked in silence. Arthur watched from his peripherals as Merlin seemed to fold into himself. How could this be the same person? How could this empty shell of a man be the so called most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the Earth? How could this broken child be one who once commanded dragons? How could the magic of the world let him get so lost? How could-- “That wasn’t the first time.”

Arthur stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. His heart beat loud in his ears and he knew he was doing little to control the look of fear on his face. No. That was-- No. Merlin stopped a few paces in front of him, his shoulders pulled together and bowed slightly. His arms dropped limp at his sides. There was a wary, humorless bark of laughter that twisted at Arthur’s heart painfully. “It wasn’t even the second or third or fifth time.” Merlin’s hollow voice crashed over him and Arthur knew he would be sick. “It wasn’t always Valiant though.”

Footsteps cut through the pounding in his ears and Arthur realized Merlin was walking away again. _It wasn’t always Valiant._ Someone else had touched him. Had hurt him. Arthur opened his mouth but the words died in his throat. What was he supposed to say to that? What could he say? Especially at Merlin blatantly dropping the conversation. So he followed, slowly trailing behind as Merlin glanced just slightly over his shoulder. The desolate look in his eyes hurt to see. Arthur swallowed the thick feeling in the back of his throat.

There was so much he didn’t know. So much he feared to find out. He caught up when Merlin stopped under a large stone archway leading into a quiet park. It vaguely registered that it was the park he’d wandered into yesterday. He froze as he stared at the fountain. That wasn’t right. Had they really been that close yesterday? He had been here. Right here. Not even two blocks away, talking to Morgana on the phone, as Merlin was-- The memory of the panicked, desperate pull of magic gripped his heart. It hurt. It hurt and he knew why now.

“It was trying to tell me.” It fell out without his noticing, but if Merlin heard it he didn’t acknowledge it. The magic, _Merlin’s magic_ had been trying to get his attention. Trying to make him save it’s owner. To protect him, and Arthur… Arthur brushed it off. He could have stopped it. Could have prevented it. He brushed it off though. Merlin sat heavily on the edge of the fountain, hands falling to his lap and gaze distant. He should have protected him. Arthur dropped beside him, in almost the same spot as the previous day and let the disgust bubble up in him. Disgust at Valiant. At fate. At destiny. Disgust at himself.

After a long moment where the only sound between them was a bubbling water in the fountain Merlin spoke, voice distant and emotionless, resigned, “It’s a part of who I am at this point. It’s a constant I can’t control.” He wouldn’t look at Arthur and to be perfectly honest Arthur was glad. He wasn’t sure he could look into those vacant eyes, hear the words and not want hellfire to rain down on those who hurt his warlock.

“You sound as if you’ve never tried.” The second the words were out he regretted them. Arthur felt Merlin stiffen beside him and his fists clenched in his lap.

“Never tried? To do what exactly?” Merlin’s tone was bitter and angry and hurt bled through. His voice was raising and Arthur wasn’t sure he was even aware of the fact. The blond was silently thankful they seemed to be the only ones in the area.

“I don’t know. Tell someone?”

Merlin’s jaw tightened and his breathing picked up as he jerked his head toward Arthur. The storm in his eyes was enough to silence Arthur instantly. “Tell someone?” He seethed, “Who the fuck would listen to me? Who the fuck would listen to a thirteen year old child saying his father raped him?” The dread in his stomach surged up to tangle around his heart, his extremities were growing numb as Merlin’s voice raised higher in anger. “Who would listen to a depressed child saying his father, his friend’s father, multiple classmates, his fucking ex raped him repeatedly over the course of almost 7 years? No one. That’s who.” By the end he was panting heavily and he was barely containing the tears filling his eyes. “I dealt with it then. I’ll deal with it now.”

Every word felt like a stab to his heart. His own father. His _father._ How could that have happened? How could Hunith let that happen? She had to be Merlin’s mother in this time too. Everything else was the same, she had to have been. She loved her son more than life itself. Surely she wouldn’t have sat by and let that happen? “What about your mother?” Arthur whispered, afraid his voice would crack if he said it any louder. “Why didn’t she stop it?”

The sound that ripped from Merlin was one Arthur wished to never hear again. A horrible, choked out watery sound tinged in desperation. “Clearly you didn’t know me then. My mother is dead.” The world started to slip under him and Arthur stopped breathing, eyes widening. “My mother was sick when it first happened. We just got back from taking her to the hospital the first time, he raped me in the backseat of the car. I couldn’t tell her. My mother died when I was 14 years old. It should have been me but it wasn’t. My father took it out on me.”

Arthur opened his mouth then shut it a second later. What was he supposed to say? Beside him Merlin’s hand wrapped around his wrist, small blue flowers could be seen through his fingers. Thin white lines crossed under the ink. “Why should it have been you?” Arthur breathed out finally, he knew it was personal. He half expected Merlin not to answer. He half expected Merlin to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t. Instead Merlin let his hands fall apart, wrists upturned to the point Arthur could see the network of scars. Most white, but there were at least a dozen that were bright pink. A dozen that were new. The silence was deafening and the world seemed to shatter around him.

“Because I wanted it to be over.” Was all Merlin could say before the dam broke and he was forcing down sobs. Chest heaving he gasped out, “I killed her.”

What. No. Merlin wouldn’t. Merlin couldn’t. Arthur narrowed his eyes as Merlin shook beside him, his arms wrapping around his stomach again, hiding the evidence of his shame. “You wouldn’t.”

“I did.” It was whispered out on a trembling exhale. “I killed her because I couldn’t fucking kill myself.” There was a low bitter gasp that Arthur assumed was supposed to be a laugh but it came out warped and broken. “The gun slipped. I couldn’t even do that right. My coward hand jerked it away the second I pulled the trigger and the bullet went through the door. My mother was on the other side.” He stood abruptly, hands burying themselves in his hair and yanking as tears flooded down his face. “Why the fuck was she on the other side? Why did I pull the trigger? Why did she have to come check on me?” Merlin spun on his heel to look back at Arthur, his eyes wild and red, “Why the fuck am I still fucking alive?” The last question was screamed at Arthur as if he held all the answers. In that moment Arthur wished he did.

With shaking hands Arthur stood and reached forward. What he planned to do he wasn’t sure but before he could make contact with him Merlin jerked away again. “No. Don’t touch me. Don’t-- I can’t.” He was looking away again, turned away enough that his face was washed in shadow. “I can’t deal with you looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Arthur demanded softly, tone slipping into one he knew, one he used to command respect in court. One that didn’t go unnoticed by Merlin. The warlock scowled at him, face twisting into something ugly. “Looking at you like what, Merlin.” It wasn’t a question anymore as he let his anger and confusion slip through. “How am I looking at you.”

“In pity!” Merlin screamed back, his eyes flashing dangerously and the air around them crackled. Arthur’s breath caught, wildly wishing the magic would burst free and make him remember, but Merlin didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t need your pity! I don’t want it! I don’t want you looking at me like I’m some precious thing. Like I’m worthy of protecting. I’m not!” He was shaking again, with every breath he took his body shook harder. Arthur was reminded of Llamrei after a snake crossed their paths on a hunt. Flighty. Terrified. Scared.

“It’s not pity!” Arthur screamed back. “It’s the truth! You apparently do need protecting. Clearly, you do need someone to look after you!” He hadn’t meant to say it. Not really but once the word vomit started he couldn’t stop it. “If not to protect you from others than to protect you from yourself!” Merlin stumbled back a few steps as if Arthur had struck him across the face. His expression morphed into barely contained horror.

“Merlin… That’s not-- I don’t--” Merlin wasn’t listening anymore though. He turned away quickly as a pained sob was ripped from him again as he stepped away. Arthur’s heart dropped as he realized what he was doing. “Merlin, wait. Please don’t go. Please let me help you.” But Merlin was shaking his head now, an abrupt movement that hurt more than Arthur wanted to admit. The next second he took off. The magic in the air ripped the oxygen from his lungs and Arthur choked out Merlin’s name once again. The other man was gone though.

Arthur slammed his fist on the stone fountain and cursed a second later as pain shot through his wrist. “He always did wear his heart on his sleeve, didn’t he?” The soft voice startled and he straightened instantly, head whipping to the side. A young woman was sitting across the fountain, her dark head tilted slightly, expression almost wistfully sad. “Such innocence for such a dark destiny.” Her gaze flicked up to Arthur then. “Hello, your Highness.”

“Freya?” Arthur blurted in a rush, it couldn’t have been. Wasn’t she supposed to be some water guardian or something? How could she be here, now? He watched as she dipped her slender fingers into the water, her eyes never wavering from him though as she nodded. “How?”

She smiled softly at that. So maybe he could have been more eloquent about it but at this point-- he didn’t care. She called him ‘your Highness’. She knew him. She _remembered_ him. “I do not have all the answers you seek, Arthur.” His hope seemed to fall around him at that. “However I can tell you that this is not how destiny was written.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded, walking around the fountain unsteadily to stand beside her. The way she said it sounded off. Like it was confusing to even her. Like she wasn’t the one who promised Arthur all would be alright. She was the one to take him away to Avalon. _She_ was the one who promised Merlin would be alright. That it was their shared destiny.

That it was-- “The magic of the world is dying.”

Silence echoed around them at the blatant statement. Arthur struggled for a breath, his blood rushing in his ears. The what? How is that possible? It wasn’t. Arthur could feel it. He could feel the Earth reaching out for him, folding around him. One look at her face though and Arthur remembered the strange silence around Merlin that morning. The lack of recognition. “How is that possible?” He breathed, voice barely moving the air around him.

Freya turned away from him with a slight frown. She looked at the water as if it would give her all the answers. Arthur wondered if just maybe once upon a time it had. “Avalon has been cut off to us. It’s why I am here now.” He noticed the tinge of sadness in her tone. “There was a spell. He learned it long ago to wipe his own memories of the past.” Arthur sat heavily next to her, head swimming with this news.

Drawing his brows together he looked imploringly at her to continue. He needed her to continue. Freya folded her hands in her lap and turned away from the water. “Emrys used the spell for decades. Letting it smother his memories until Albion needed him to remember. For hundreds of years he seemed content. I watched over him the best I could but by then he…” She broke off and her expression faltered.

Afraid she wouldn’t continue Arthur reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. Trying to provide comfort to the woman Merlin said he once loved. She seemed almost grateful, thankful, for the attempt. Freya took a shaky breath and continued softly, “By then he’d fallen so far away from the Old Religion, from magic, in his grief I could not speak to him directly.”

“How could you let him get that bad?” The question was out before Arthur could think it through. Anger flared within him though and he didn’t regret it. She had promised to look after him until Arthur could return. He slept thinking she would protect him. Freya narrowed her eyes and shrugged his hand off her.

“He refused to speak to me. He blamed me for taking you away.” She bit out angrily, “For years he screamed at me to give you back. As the years, decades, centuries passed by he stopped talking to me. In 1601 he came to the lake again. He begged me to give him Excalibur.” She stopped to take in a heaving inhale, her voice thick with unshed tears. Arthur’s blood ran cold at the sound. Finally she met his eyes again and he saw his own anguish mirrored there. “He begged me, and I couldn’t comfort him.”

The question burned on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to say it out loud. He knew the answer already. He could feel it the second he’d put his hand on the sword mounted on his wall. Still it spilled out like an overflowing goblet, staining the world around it. “Why did he want the sword?”

“It is the only thing that could kill him.”

Arthur’s heart hurt and his stomach twisted painfully. Hearing the words out loud just made it real. Made him fully acknowledge the truth. “It was in that century he mastered the spell. It was after I refused to give him Excalibur he used it. And with every lived lifetime, he would return to himself upon a death he never lived. Every lifetime that ended he was once again given the lifetime he wanted to forget.”

“He remembered me dying. Over and over again.”

It wasn’t a question, yet she nodded sadly all the same. “So what’s changed this time?” He demanded, fear suddenly settling in his heart. She said the magic in the world was dying. How was that possible? Is this why he was brought back now? Was this the tragic need he’s supposed to come back and what? Fix? “I didn’t think magic could just die.”

Freya leveled him a long look. There was something in her eyes he didn’t like. It was the look his knights often gave him before delivering news they knew he wasn’t going to be happy with. “This time, young King, Emrys has truly forgotten who he is. What he is, and the magic of the world is dying because of it. Emrys is magic itself. The bridge between our world and the magic of Avalon. Something has gone wrong with the spell. When he was reborn this time something… something didn’t settle right.” He could see her struggling to find the right words now and it made him cold.

“We have felt it since he was but a boy. The waning, but we are unable to reach him. Unable to reawaken the part of him that is pure magic. The Earth is screaming for him but he can not hear it.” She looked at him now and there was a harsh glint in her dark eyes. “So the Earth called for you instead.”

If that wasn’t pressure or anything. Arthur gulped and nodded slowly, “So what, I’m supposed to do what exactly? Make him remember?” He barked out a hollow laugh, “Like that’ll happen. Merlin is… Merlin is different. Merlin is…” He broke off suddenly. It was starting to fit together. The picture of this new Merlin was finally falling together. His mouth ran dry and his eyes stung. “Merlin is dying isn’t he?”

Freya regarded him sadly but didn’t speak. She didn’t have to, he understood. Merlin is magic. Magic was dying. “This life he lives now. It’s breaking him. It’s pulling at all the seams and watching him unravel. I fear if he were to die this time he will not wake again, Arthur.”

It frustrated him. Her cryptic words, the double edged meanings. “How do I help him?” Arthur demanded, “How am I supposed to help him? He hates me!”

“One can not truly hate that which makes it whole.” Freya muttered back. The words struck Arthur and made him pause. He felt as if he’d heard them before. As if they’d been said in a time long ago, yet he knew _he’d_ never been told them. “I don’t know how you reach him, Arthur, but you must.” She was pleading now, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. “I have watched him hurt. I have watched him be broken. I will not watch him die.”

He understood her conviction. The thought of Merlin dying made something terrible churn in him. No. He would not let that happen. Beside him Freya sighed and stood slowly. She turned so she could stare at her reflection again and Arthur watched her for a moment before speaking. “You really loved him.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement. Like he was commenting on the weather. Freya shrugged slightly, eyes never leaving the rippling water, but the wistful smile was back.

“I did.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, expression soft, “Much as you do now.”

She left him not long after with a soft goodbye. When asked if he’d see her again she only quirked the corner of her mouth. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but his heart ached. He knew he probably wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let her down though. He couldn’t.

  
-M-

_"Merlin I understand you’re upset, and I’m sorry… We’re just worried about you."_ Gwen sighed through the speaker as she bit her lip. Merlin frowned and took another long puff from his joint, the smoke stung his lungs but the rush in his head was worth it. The hand holding his phone up sagged slightly as his friend watched in disapproval. She was never a fan of his drug habits. She was never a fan of anything that calmed him.

Turning his heavy gaze back to the phone he tried for a light smile, “I know, Gwen. I’m just irritated that Arthur was the one to tell you. It wasn’t his secret to tell.” He knew his smile failed the second her lips pursed. However she shook her head and seemed to let the conversation drop.

_“You work tomorrow right?”_ He nodded once, letting out a long breath of smoke. _“Morgana and I made cookies. I’ll bring you some.”_ Gwen chirped, trying to make the conversation light again. Merlin silently thanked her for it. In the background he saw a flash of pale skin and dark hair. Morgana was grinning and holding up a tray of what appeared to be fresh baked cookies.

“They look good!” Merlin quipped as he let his attention slide away from the conversation. He picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table and absently started folding. “I’m in at 5.” He caught Gwen nodding enthusiastically before her eye caught the paper in his hand. She frowned slightly at it but said nothing.

A rush of hot shame burned through him at the look. She knew he was hiding something. “I told him about my mother.” He blurted without meaning to. Gwen froze on the other end of the line, her eyes wide and mouth open slightly. “I don’t know why.” Merlin mumbled, flicking the burnt out butt away and watching as Kilgharrah pounced on it. “I just… I told him everything?” It sounded like a question to his own ears. Like he wasn’t even sure why he had.

Gwen was quiet for a long moment. In that time Merlin finished off the tiny dragon’s right wing and started on the left. Finally her voice caught his attention again, _“He still cares.”_ Her reply wasn’t a question and he frowned, _“You care… that’s why you told him. You were hoping he wouldn’t."_ It was so matter of fact that Merlin let his hand fall to the ground. His camera turned to the slow moving ceiling fan. _“Merlin?”_

“I’m still here. Just… Just thinking.” Merlin watched the fan make it’s unsteady rounds, the slight creaking the only sound really registering. Gwen stayed quiet, waiting patiently for him to come back down. He had always liked that about her. She knew instinctively when he needed her advice, when he needed her silence. “Why do I like him so much, Gwen?” He grumbled finally, the room was starting to spin.

Yet when he closed his eyes he saw Arthur’s horrified face again. “Why do I feel the need to justify myself to him?” And he did. He had that undeniable urge to defend himself, defend and justify his past to this man he hardly knew. He wanted so badly to make Arthur see his past. To understand who he really was, but why? He’d never cared about how others saw him before… not really.

Except he knew that was a lie.

_“Merlin, dear, can you look at me for a moment?”_ Merlin blinked down at the phone in confusion. That wasn’t Gwen… wait, Morgana was there wasn’t she? Raising his phone again he looked as Morgana gave him a gentle smile. Her green eyes sparkled with slight confusion and worry, but were still kind. _“I know my brother is… difficult, but you must trust that when he cares for someone he does so with his whole heart. And Merlin, he likes you.”_

Unfortunately Merlin was starting to realize that, and it threw his own emotions into a tizzy. “I’m starting to get that. I’m not sure my gay arse could have missed it.” He deadpanned, rolling his eyes back up to the ceiling as he heard both girls choke on their laughter. He let a grin break through at that. It felt good to admit it, even if he’ll regret it come morning when his high is gone.

He knew his world would come crashing down again once he came down fully. When the fuzz in his head cleared and his limbs came back to himself. He’d remember who he was and everything would shatter again. For now though he let himself stare at the fan, dopey smile on his lips as he thought of the strange blonde who looked at him like he held the stars. “I want to get to know him.” He wasn’t sure if he was even talking to the girls anymore or if he was just trying to process his own thoughts. “I want to--” He threw his arms out to the side with a shrug.

“I _want_ to be his friend.”

_“I can send you his number?”_ He was distantly aware of Morgana’s voice, light and teasing, but it was quickly slipping away. He was almost ashamed to fall asleep while on the phone with her, but he knew Gwen would explain. He knew Gwen would cover for him. Merlin let out a small hum in agreement before he let his eyes close and let the image of Arthur’s smile wash over him.

>   
>  The sun was reflecting harshly off the river when Merlin finally opened his eyes. Warmth seeped through his limbs as he stretched out over the plush blanket. Beside him his King hmm’d and ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his nape before dragging back up. Merlin yawned and curled closer, letting his head tilt up from where it was resting over Arthur’s heart to his shoulder.
> 
> Arthur glanced down at him, sleepy smile on his face. Merlin couldn’t help but return it before reaching up slightly to kiss Arthur’s neck. “G’morning.” Arthur rumbled softly, pulling his other arm, previously pillowed under his own head, up to wrap around Merlin’s middle. “We should probably be getting up soon.” Merlin made a soft noise in agreement but didn’t make any effort to actually move. Quite the opposite actually as he slid one leg up to slot between Arthur’s.
> 
> “‘M sure Gwen and ‘Gana can run one council meeting, _Sire._ ” He huffed into Arthur’s tunic, his hand finding its way under the laces at his neck line. He ran his finger tips over Arthur’s collarbone and smiled into the shirt as Arthur’s grip on him tightened. “I’m sure no one will miss us.”
> 
> With a bitten off laugh and a quick kiss to his temple, Arthur rolled over so Merlin was laying underneath him, a self indulgent smile on his sleep warm face. “No… I don’t suppose they’d notice if their Kings disappeared for a day would they?” Arthur pulled Merlin’s hand away from his chest and brought it up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. He smiled as Merlin’s eyes slipped shut and Arthur drug his lips up to kiss the inside of his wrist. “You’re a terrible influence, do you know that?”
> 
> Merlin hmm’d again, his other arm coming up to wrap around Arthur’s shoulders, hand falling on the back of his head. “I’ve been told once or twice.” His eyes fluttered half open and his smile grew tempting. “I think…” He paused to wrap his right leg around the back of Arthur’s thighs, “You should kiss me now.”
> 
> Arthur grinned down at him before dropping Merlin’s hand to slip his behind the warlock’s head. He pulled him up enough to press their lips together. Merlin smiled into it with a soft happy sigh.

Merlin blinked his eyes open in a slight daze, the room around him was dark now, even as moonlight filtered in through his open curtains. He licked his lips as his mouth slowly melted into a frown. It wasn’t the first time he’d had such a strange dream. Not the first time he’d dreamt of far away lands. It wasn’t even the first time he’d dreamt of Arthur, he was ashamed to admit. It was however, the first time it’d felt _real._

He could usually tell the difference between reality and his dreams almost instantly. That dream though… It felt different. It certainly felt real. Merlin scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He was losing his grip, clearly. 

The girls had hung up sometime after he'd fallen asleep, in their place was a simple text from Morgana. All it contained was a small heart emoji and a phone number. 


	5. The Hollow Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything. He’d do anything for Arthur. He’d killed for Arthur. He’d die for Arthur.   
> For Arthur, he’d live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is purely events leading from Arthur's death, until Merlin learns the spell Freya mentioned in the last chapter. So yeah, there's a lot of angst in this, but! We're finally getting to the turning point and happiness will be right around the corner-- eventually.   
> Notes: LA- Lake Avalon  
> CC- Crystal Cave  
> (I think those are the only two I use here)

“The King is dead. Long live the Queen!” 

Long live the Queen. He wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the waters edge, yet he knew the words would be spoken. He knew Gwen would be upset. Disappointed. Yet Merlin couldn’t bring himself to care. Cold water lapped at his feet and he tightened his grip around his legs, letting his forehead tip forward to rest against his knees. It’d been hours since the boat disappeared into the heart of Lake Avalon. Hours since Arthur had been taken from him. Around him the world was silent in mourning. 

A branch cracked behind him but Merlin couldn’t bring himself to look up. If he were to be struck down now he’d be happy. The thought made his heart ache with the unfiltered truth of it. His destiny has ended. His King was gone. His reason was gone. His will was gone. There’s a heavy sound of someone sitting beside him, the sound of it painfully familiar. Percival remains quiet though. 

Merlin felt the tears start flowing again. It was only Percival. He choked on a sob when the Knight finally spoke, his own voice rough with tears, “Gwaine is dead.” Merlin didn’t realise he was shaking until Percival wrapped his arms around his shoulders. The pressure is gentle but strong. Belatedly he realises the other had started sobbing as well as he folded Merlin into his chest. Holding him there as if he were something precious. Merlin had never been more thankful for anyone in his life. 

“I couldn’t save him.” Merlin wheezed out through his tears. The pain of saying out loud ripping his heart open all over again. “Arthur… I couldn’t save him…” Percival pressed a hand against the back of his head and pressed Merlin’s face into his shoulder. He buried his own in the cloth at Merlin’s neck. Small shushing noises filtered through and Merlin could only wrap his arms tighter and let the pain wash out. 

“You’ve done so much.” Percival murmured finally, swallowing down the tremble in his voice. Merlin shook his head. He didn’t do enough though. He didn’t. He let them all down. He let Gaius, and Gwen, and Kilgharrah down. He let Leon, and Percival down. He let Gwaine down. He let Arthur down. He let himself down. “Arthur was so proud of you.”

“I let him die.” Merlin’s voice cracked on the word. He couldn’t help it as his eyes stung again. “I should have saved him. I’m supposed to be this great fucking warlock and I still failed. Fuck I should have--”

Percival’s sharp voice cut him off suddenly, an edge present Merlin had never heard before, “What could you have done, Merlin.” The warlock pulled away to look at his friend, Percival let him go. He looked how Merlin felt and a wave of nausea crashed over him. “There is nothing that either of us could have done to change the tides as they came. It was a destiny predetermined and nothing could have changed it.” He looked away from Merlin then and seemed to shrink in on himself. In his own grief and misery he’d let himself forget that they were Percival’s friends too. 

Falling back into his previous stance Merlin let out a soft sigh. Silence stretched between them then and the water lapped at their boots as the sun disappeared beyond the tree line. “I’m sorry.” Merlin whispered, eyes falling on the tower in the center of the lake. Beside him he could hear Percival take a deep breath and slowly release it. A large hand fell to rest on top of his shoulder.

“It is truly the worst feeling in the world, isn’t it. Losing the one you love the most.”

There was no big fanfare, no ah ha moment. Nothing but resolute truth. It was something they’d both already known and accepted. It was something they trusted the other with. 

“Yeah, Percival, it really is.”  
  
  
-Camelot 439AD-  
Returning to Camelot went as well as Merlin had expected it to. Leon had pulled both him and Percival into a bone crushing hug and Merlin could feel the desperation in the act. He could feel Leon’s relief as he held them out at arms length to look them over. He could see the deep seated sadness behind the brave expression. The need to get away was lodged in his throat and his magic burned under his skin. Shame prickled through him. He’d failed them all. 

He excused himself quietly after that. Leon looked like he wanted to protest, as if Merlin would vanish too if he left their line of sight. The panic clear in his eyes, even when Percival laid a hand on his shoulder and murmured for Leon to let him go. Merlin couldn’t look either in the eye as he realised the fear held more truth than either of them knew. He wanted to vanish. He wanted to melt away into the ground. Wanted to leave the sadness and pain and suffering and _loneliness_ behind. 

Something else was breathed between the remaining Round Table knights, but Merlin didn’t stay to find out what. He couldn’t take the look Leon was giving him anymore. Couldn’t trust himself to keep his composure if he let the pitying look continue. 

For the first time in over a decade, the castle halls were cold and bleak. There was no welcoming presence anymore. It was as if Camelot itself knew her King would no longer return to wander the halls. Merlin let his hand trail over one faded red tapestry, let his finger tips graze hard stone. He bit down the bitter sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. His home felt empty, echoing the shattered space in his chest. 

Servants shuffled around him, all of them bowing their heads low as they passed. No one said a word and Merlin didn’t know how to feel about it. People who he’d known for so long refused to look at him. Refused to make eye contact. They kept their heads down, heavy-hearted expressions trained on the floor. It was only when one small scullery maid glanced away a beat too late that he realised why. Her face had morphed into a barely concealed mask of depressed sympathy. Merlin let his hand drop at his side as he watched her shuffle away.

Sympathy. Pity. Commiseration. They had all lost their King. They had lost the greatest man anyone would ever know. They all knew he’d lost so much more. They knew he’d lost his master, his King. Most importantly, they knew he had lost his best friend. He stood there staring at the Pendragon crest for so long the gold bled into red as shadows crept across the fabric. How was this the Golden age? How has his destiny, their destiny, come to pass when everything still felt so broken? 

“Merlin?” He didn’t look over at her even as Gwen slowly came to stand beside him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face her, look her in the eyes and tell her he’d let her husband die. The thought should have made the tears start again. They should have, but there was nothing left to cry. No more tears could convey the emptiness inside him. “Merlin, sweetie, will you look at me?”

He shook his head, eyes never leaving the golden dragon. If he looked away it would disappear. If he looked away he’d lose everything. Merlin let his eyes slowly slide to the floor as a vice gripped his heart painfully. But he’d already lost everything, hadn’t he? Gwen’s hand reached for him in his peripherals but stopped short before it fell back to her side. He felt like he was falling. Like the Earth beneath his feet had cracked open and let him drop. “Arthur’s dead.” 

“I know.”

When he finally looked at her she had her head bowed, hands folded in front of her. It was a sick imitation of the gesture the servants had adopted around him. He wasn’t sure why it made him angry but it did. It flared to life in him like a fiery beast from hell. “Why is everyone acting like this?” Merlin spat, jerking away from her as his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why is everyone treating me like I’m made of glass? Like I’m some broken thing?”

There should have been anger. There should have been hostility toward him. Gwen shouldn’t be looking up at him with such heartbroken sadness. The Queen of all people should have hated him. He didn’t deserve her pity. Her understanding, her love. “Because you’re hurting, Merlin. You’re hurting and we don’t know how to help you.” There were tears in her eyes and Merlin wanted desperately to hug her and cry with her… but the tears wouldn’t come. 

As if she could sense it she took the few steps forward to wrap him in a slight hug. Tentative yet still welcoming. He didn’t return it. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered as her hands ran over his shoulder blades. Once upon a time it may have been comforting, now it just felt wrong. He didn’t mention it though. What was his purpose anymore? Who was Emrys without his King? Who was Merlin without Arthur? 

“Stay here. Help me build the kingdom Arthur fought to bring to life.” Merlin pulled away from her at that, shaking his head again. Gwen continued though, gaze determined and pleading, “Please, Merlin, if I am to bring magic back I need your help.” He swallowed the emotion gathering in the back of his throat. “I need a sorcerer in the Court.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach and looked at her feet in silence. He couldn’t. The hole in his chest reminded him of its presence. 

Gwen seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for his reply, but the second his shoulders slumped forward it came out in a rush. It was at that moment he knew she realised he was leaving. She took another step back, lips pursed and brows drawn together sadly. “I can’t stay, Gwen. Not now. My heart no longer lies here, but at the Lake of Avalon.” He wasn’t sure if she understood the exact meaning of his words but the resigned look in her dark eyes told him she wasn’t about to stop him. 

“You will return one day?” Her question would have been called hopeful, if not for the fact they both knew the truth. He wouldn’t. Not to stay at least. Camelot was not his home. Camelot had never truly been his home. His home had brilliant blue eyes. His home had a warm smile and arms wide open. His home had a heartbeat. Camelot didn’t any longer.  
\----

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for Merlin to end up in the Physician’s quarters. He supposed it was because no one tried to stop him. Tried to speak to him. Tried to console him. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, it was that they all cared too much. He wasn’t the King’s manservant anymore. He wasn’t a servant at all anymore. He was a nobody. A nobody who’d lost everything in the span of a few short days. A nobody that everybody knew, and didn’t know how to help. 

Merlin laid a hand on the small plaque on the wall. It had been the first thing that felt real when he first arrived in Camelot. It had been the first thing that made him realise this was his home. He let his hand slide off the side, fingernails digging into the stone work slightly. It didn’t give the same warmth it once did. Now it just felt like a reminder of all his mistakes, all his shortcomings. He’d never truly believed he’d be a good physician. Even when Gaius had told him he was learning fast, it always felt wrong. 

“You’re not staying.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a realisation, just a simple fact. Merlin shook his head, unable to voice his confirmation. Gaius opened the door wider before turning and retreating back into their quarters, his quarters. Merlin let his hand fall to his side as he turned to follow. He knew he had to explain, had to give his reasons. He knew he had to tell his mentor what happened.

As he was sat at the table, Gaius sitting across from him with a pensive look, he knew. He knew the physician didn’t expect anything from him. He knew he could get up and leave without saying a word and Gaius would never stop him. Merlin also knew he could never do that. “We both knew long ago that my place was by Arthur’s side.” Merlin started finally, trailing a finger over the grooves in the table. “I don’t think I can handle being here, Gaius. Not without him.” His voice cracked and tears he thought were dried out blurred his vision. 

“I don’t know who I am without him. I don’t know what I am, but I am not this fix all presence they need me to be.” The words echoed around them in the quiet as Merlin let the realisation fully sink in. Because… yeah. That’s what they wanted, what they needed. Percival, and Leon and Gwen. They wanted someone to put their faith and trust in. They wanted someone to fix the hurt losing Arthur left behind. “I can’t be that. I can’t fix them. I can’t help them. I can’t be the tourniquet to hold everyone together. I want to break. I _need_ to crumble and break and let myself feel. I’ve lost a part of my soul, Gaius. I can’t help everyone else.” I can’t even help myself, it went unsaid, but they both heard it.

Merlin didn’t realise he was sobbing the words out until Gaius pressed a cloth into his hand. “I know, my boy, I know. They are not asking you to forget your own pain though, Merlin. They would never ask that of you.” A wounded noise forced itself out of Merlin’s throat but he couldn’t say anything. “Your loss is greater than most could ever fathom. It is one that will not heal overnight, nor does anyone expect you to. I will not stop you from leaving. I could never ask you to stay when the very castle you live in brings you pain. But Merlin,” The warlock looked up, eyes bloodshot and lip trembling, “You must promise to take care of yourself.”

“Will you look after them?” Merlin asked in a soft voice, his eyes dropping back to the table. “Gwen most of all… I know this is hurting her.” He trailed off as guilt flooded him. His first friend. She lost her husband and now her friend in the span of a day, and it was all his fault. “Just look out for her. She’ll need you more than anyone now.” Now that I’m leaving. Now that I’m abandoning her. It wasn’t said out loud, but he knew Gaius heard the words in his silence. 

One old hand was laid on top of his and Merlin’s heart seized as a fresh wave of sadness consumed him. “I will do what I can. I will do what I must, the same as you.” Merlin gave him a watery smile, one reflected in his eyes more than the upturn of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Gaius.” 

“There is nothing you are to be sorry for, my son.”  
\----

When the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon Merlin found himself facing Leon in the stables. The Knight had Llamrei brindled beside him, his expression sad yet understanding. Wordlessly he held out the reins for Merlin to take before picking up a bag beside him and holding that out as well. “It isn’t much,” Leon began softly as Merlin took the bag and looked inside, the bright red of a knight's cloak was the first thing he saw. A broken sob came out as he ran his fingers over it. “Some money, and food.” He hesitated when something else caught Merlin’s eye.

His mouth ran dry as he picked up the heavy metal coin. The Pendragon crest caught the weak moonlight just so as Merlin turned it over in his hands. “Gwen found it in Arthur’s possessions. She… She wanted you to have it. You are as much a Pendragon as she.” A sigil, much like the one Arthur had given him before. Much like Ygraine’s that Merlin kept in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. He felt his eyes welling again and quickly rubbed the moisture away before Leon saw. It wasn’t something so readily given away. It was as much of an admission that she knew as any. That she had accepted it, that she understood. 

“Thank you.” It was all he could say. He couldn’t think of the words needed to express all he was truly feeling. “Tell her I said thank you.” Leon nodded and helped Merlin mount the dark horse. He let his hand linger on Merlin’s knee for a moment and the warlock let him. Merlin knew Leon had trouble saying goodbye. He knew the first knight had to say it so much recently that it was hurting him to let go. Dropping a hand to his shoulder Merlin gave him a sad smile when Leon finally looked at him. “You’ve always been a good friend, Leon. To all of us. I’m sorry I can’t be a good friend to you now. Take care of Percival.”

Leon shook his head with a humorless chuckle, “You must do what you have too to survive. I understand that.” He let his hand drop to run through Llamrei’s mane before pulling away completely. “I shall. You just… take care of yourself. Know we are always here with open arms should you need it.”

Merlin nodded once, expression setting as he spurred Arthur’s horse out of the stable, the Pendragon sigil clenched tightly in his fist.  
  
  
-Ealdor -  
Ealdor was much the same as the last time he’d been there. Quiet and nervous in the early morning air. The villagers watched him wearily as he rode through the main street on a horse decorated in Camelot’s finest. Merlin’s stomach churned at the reminder. He’d have to get rid of most of it, he couldn’t afford someone noticing it. He couldn’t afford the reminder that he was running away from it all. Again.

Word must have spread quickly though, because the second his childhood home came into view, Hunith was opening the door. Shock and delight and worry all clouded her features as he dismounted and all but fell into her open arms. It’d been three days since he’d left Camelot. Two days since the tears finally dried up again and the hollow ache in his chest consumed him. It’d been five days since Arthur Pendragon died. “Merlin.” 

“Hello, mother.” He breathed out, letting her unyielding love wash over him, envelop him, ground him. After a long moment she pulled back and pressed her hands against his cheeks, eyes searching his desperately. The question was burning there, he could see it just beneath the surface. _Where’s Arthur?_ It left him cold and numb and she seemed to pick up on it instantly as her face fell. Her dark blue eyes shrouded in the pain Merlin had been feeling all week. 

“Can we go inside?” He asked hoarsely, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip nervously. He could feel the neighbors eyes burning into his back. Could feel their judgement though they knew nothing of what had happened. His mother, bless her soul, pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before ushering him through the door. He didn’t see the glare she gave them all, but he knew it was there all the same. 

The house was warm and smelled of the beginnings of stew and pulled at all of Merlin’s frayed heartstrings. He sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, the Pendragon sigil laid in front of him as he opened his jacket to pull out the De Bois one. Hunith moved quietly around him, a teapot in hand. She sat beside him finally as she set a steaming cup beside his hand. Letting him know it was there but not pressing him to take it. She studied the coins laid out between his arms quietly, sipping at her own tea cup, her brows drawn together as sadness settled in her heart. 

“He’s gone.” Merlin said after a while, voice devoid of all emotion, his dim gaze never leaving the dragon coin. Hunith remained silent, though she set her cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “There was a battle… one I knew was coming and yet I still couldn’t stop it. Morgana… she stole my magic. I had to get it back but I--” He took a shuddering breath, “I didn’t get there in time. I knew Mordred was the one I had to stop but still I--” He stopped suddenly to look away at the flames licking the dinner pot. He knew there was heat coming from them, but he couldn’t feel it. “Mordred wounded him. I couldn’t save him.”

“Sometimes destiny is a cruel and fickle mistress.” His mother replied gently, one hand coming up to smooth along the back of his head. It made him feel like he was a child again. Safe and protected from the horrors of the world because his mother was there. He longed for it to be true once again. With her other hand Hunith picked up the Pendragon sigil and turned it over slowly. “You have suffered so much that I wish I could take it away. This pain is not one I had ever hoped for you to feel.” 

She let the coin fall back to rest beside the other. He had told her about that one, the one with the bird. The one that was Arthur’s mothers. The one that Merlin cherished above all else. “How do you do it?” Merlin croaked out, fingers wrapping around the dragon coin with one hand, the other tracing over the small bird. He didn’t really expect an answer. How could he get a straightforward answer to such a cryptic question? Yet like she always does, his mother surprised him. 

Her voice was distant and careful, he knew it was a wound that still hadn’t healed. A festering scab he knew would soon grow within himself. “You take it one day at a time.” Hunith turned away to look out the window, a small frown on her face. “Losing the other half of yourself hurts. I can not tell you it’ll get better because it has not.” She looked back at him as he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “It will hurt you more than any pain of the past. It will tear you apart and make you wish for it to end.” Her hand was back on his nape and he could feel his throat tightening, knowing tears will soon follow. “But you must be strong. You must carry on each day because that is what he would want.” 

Merlin knew she wasn’t speaking of Arthur anymore. Knew that her mind had drifted to his father. He knew in that moment they were more alike than they’d ever been before. “I loved him, mum.” It hurt to admit out loud. “It wasn’t the love of a subject to his King. A servant to his master. I loved him more than life itself.”

“And that is why you must continue living.” Her hand brushed stray curls back behind his ear, her voice soft as she continued, “Arthur would not want this of you, Merlin. You know this as well as I.” He nodded, even as the moisture spilled down his cheeks. He knew his mother was right. He knew she only wished to help him through this. His stomach ached and his body felt numb though. “You should rest.”

“It’s early morning though--” Merlin started to protest but his mother held up on hand to silence him. 

“It is, but you are forgetting, I know. I know the emptiness inside you has kept you awake. I know the sadness begs you to curl up on yourself and sleep it away. I know you are bone deep tired, Merlin.” The look she gave him left no room for arguments, even if he had wanted to. But as she spoke he knew it was the truth. The darkness taking root inside him left him exhausted and lost. “Go lay in my bed and sleep. Let your mind rest and your heart time to heal.” She picked up the hand clutching the Pendragon crest and pressed it to his own chest. “Let yourself feel your loss.” 

As he curled up in her bed he did just that. He cried. He cried and cried and cried. He pulled the cloak Leon had sent with him around himself and let Arthur’s fading scent surround him. He let the red fabric surround his vision and pull him under. He let himself remember the painful sadness in Arthur’s eyes during those last moments. Let himself remember the soft urgency of those last words. The way Arthur’s lips moved to mouth one thing but his words said another. He let himself remember, and mourn the loss of the one he loved the most.  
\----

Returning to the waking world was harder than Merlin imagined. He was still swaddled in Arthur’s cloak like a terrified infant. His eyes stung from where he’d cried himself to sleep, and his throat was sore, but the room was warm and dark and his mother was sitting beside him, gentle hand running through his hair. Merlin blinked up at her a few times before she seemed to notice his breathing changed and looked down. Her smile was downcast and her eyes melancholic. “How do you feel?”

Merlin shifted slightly to sit up, the red fabric pulling tighter around his shoulders. He shrugged before answering in a soft murmur, “Like my heart’s been ripped in two?” Hunith dropped her hand to his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. She understood. She stood and made her way back into the main room which was much darker than he remembered it being. “How long was I asleep?” He asked, raising to follow, clutching the cloak like a child would a safety blanket. 

Hunith glanced up at him briefly as she scooped some of the stew into a bowl. “The whole day, the sun just went down not long ago.” She handed him the bowl and sat at the table, something was bothering her. He could see it in her eyes and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. “I’ve stabled your horse for the night. She was quite grateful to be unsaddled.” He nodded slowly as he ate only to freeze when she looked at him again. Resignation clear in her bright eyes. “Let her and yourself rest for a few days before moving on. I know you’re restless. I know you’re wanting to find meaning again, but--”

She sighed and closed her eyes. She looked so much older than her years and Merlin felt sorrow suffocating around them. “I can not lose both my boys in one day. Surely you understand my hesitation to let you go.” Hunith met his gaze then and Merlin dipped his head forward, his heart breaking for her as well. Of course he knew, of course he understood. His mother had never tried to hide her affections for the King like her son had. She was always so open about her mother’s love for him. For them both. 

“I fear I don’t tell you often enough how much I love you, do I mother?” Hunith smiled gently at him. It was a smile he knew he’d carry with him forever. It was a smile that buried itself in his chest, made a home in the broken remains. 

In the end he stayed for close to a week. A week of numbness. Of hearing hushed whispers as he passed with firewood. Of bitten off conversation when he went to the market. A week of spiteful accusations never made to his face. By mid week word had spread from Camelot and the whispers turned ugly. The King was dead. 

“They’re saying I killed him.” Merlin confessed one evening as his mother built up the fire for the night. He watched the flames lick at the wood before engulfing it in warmth. “They think I don’t hear it. They think I don’t listen.” His voice was choked and as desolate as his eyes when she turned to look at him. Merlin licked his lip nervously before he looked down at the ground, “They think that’s why I left Camelot. I murdered her King and fled.” 

The laugh he forced out was a disgusting, hateful sound, one that didn’t sit right with the image of her son. “But that’s not the truth, you know it. You did everything you could to save him. You owe no one any explanation.” He only shrugged off her defensive words, knowing they hold truth, but not really believing it. Every word he heard. Every hurtful, damning comment he wanted to throw it back at them. Where were they when the King needed them? Where were they when Arthur needed their support? They didn’t know them. They didn’t know _him_. He wanted to scream at them all that he loved Arthur Pendragon more than his own life. 

“They don’t know.” Merlin let it drop off in the quiet, eyes trailing over to where the full moon was just visible through the window. “The love I still have for him.” There were three things vibrating between them that night. Three things that broke Hunith’s heart as she watched her only son fall apart. As she watched him set his face into a steel, determined mask.

The first, that this was no longer the innocent country boy, going off to face an uncertain destiny. This was a man that the world chewed up and spit back out. This was a man who had loved, so completely, so wholly, that nothing could change it. Not even death. 

The second, was that this man was her son still. Her son who believed he’d already lost everything. Her son who hated to accept the truth’s the world threw back at him. Who would continue to do anything to change his own destiny if it’d bring Arthur back. Even though they both knew it would make no difference. For all his magic, he just couldn’t save everyone. 

The third? As Merlin slowly turned to look back at her she bowed her head slightly. The third was that he was leaving tonight. He was going somewhere she knew she couldn’t follow, couldn’t stop him. He was lost. He needed to find something to believe in again. Hunith knew, somewhere deep in her heart, this would be the last time she saw her son. He stood slowly and fell into her open embrace the second he saw the acceptance flit across her features. 

“You’ll be okay?” It was breathed into her neck and she knew if she said the word he’d stay. He’d force himself to live as this empty husk of who he used to be. He’d stay if she asked him to… but she couldn’t do that to him. She’d made her peace. She needed him to go out and make his. Will you? It was pressed as a kiss to his temple.

He left wrapped in a heavy cloak of red and gold.  
  
-LA 442AD-  
Merlin stared at the scroll the raven had dropped on his window sill. It wasn’t that he was shocked to get a correspondence from Camelot. In the past three years he’d gotten many, simple updates from Gwen, Leon, Percival, and Gaius. They no longer begged him to come home as they had in that first year. Now they merely kept him updated on the goings on of the kingdom. They never bore the royal seal though. 

The deep red wax seemed to taunt him in the late afternoon sun as he picked it up and rolled it through his fingers. His name written in Gwen’s elegant script mocked him as he slid to the ground outside his hut. With shaking hands he pried the seal up to unravel the paper. The blood drained from his face as he read the words. He dropped the paper and scrambled away as if it burned him. 

How could she do that? How could she-- No. No no no no no. Gwen would never-- she-- she had loved-- No. Without wasting another breath Merlin flew to the edge of the lake before collapsing where he had so very long ago. “Arthur! You have to come back now! Please!” He begged, hands falling into the water in front of his knees. “Please, Gwen-- Gwen’s getting married. She-- she’s letting you go. Please you have to come back.” Like so often before, the lake remained silent. A sob bubbled out of Merlin and he clenched his hands on the rocky edge. 

Gwen was remarrying. Gwen was marrying _Leon_. She claimed it was for the good of the kingdom. Claimed they needed a King. Needed an _heir_. The truth screamed at him through her perfectly constructed words though. She was moving on. She was letting go. They all were. They were all letting Arthur go. They were replacing him. They were replacing their King with someone new. 

For the first time in months, Merlin cried. He screamed and cried until his voice gave out. He let out the pain flowing from the reopened wound. He let his tears fall into the water unhindered, he let his magic seep out and bleed into the still air. “She wants me there.” He hiccuped out, bowing his head to the water, “How can I face her when she’s betraying you like this? How can I go and be happy for her, for them, when it just hurts so much?” 

In the silence Merlin could hear Arthur’s incredulous laugh. He could imagine Arthur telling him to suck it up and stop being a girl. In the answering silence Merlin wished he could hear Arthur telling him it would be alright. The ever present ache in his chest burned. It reminded him he was still alive, he was still there. He’d still be here. He’d still be here when Arthur finally came back. When Arthur returned to his kingdom, Merlin would still be here.  
  
-445 AD-  
“I’m sorry I’ve been gone.” It was a whisper carried over the water with a cold gust of wind. Merlin’s eyes were red rimmed and dim as he sat beside the water’s edge, knees folded to his chest, faded red cloak pulled tight around his shoulders. “Gaius… Gaius is dead.” He wanted to cry again but there wasn’t anything left. He’d returned to Camelot the second the raven dropped the letter at his door that Gaius was ill. He rode through the night, pushed Llamrei harder than he ever had before. 

He got there right before the breath left the old Physician. He’d fallen to his mentor’s side and whispered soft goodbyes. Gave gentle reassurances that Merlin had never forgotten him, that he loved him dearly. He held Gaius’s hand as the man smiled his last and closed his eyes. A content smile crossing his face as his beloved ward returned to his side. Merlin had sobbed out his pain and loss before anyone came to the quarters. He hovered in the empty battlements as the funeral pyre was lit. He let tears roll down his face as he watched another loved one disappear into a world he longed to follow.

Merlin had left before the final embers diminished. He didn’t seek out the Queen. Didn’t want to see the false King he once called his friend. “I had to say goodbye, you understand, right? I hope so.” He laid one cheek against his knee and stared out at the tree line along the far side of the lake. “You’ll welcome him to Avalon right? You’ll make him feel at home? Make sure he settles in before coming back to me. I’ll let you not coming back slide this time, okay?” He shuddered out a low breath and closed his eyes. 

It was the same thing. Year after year, he sat and waited. It was foretold that the king would return. Merlin had to believe he would. “You have to come back, Arthur.” He had to. He had to because Merlin was losing hope. He had to because Merlin wasn’t sure he could do this anymore. “You have to come back to me.” Moisture gathered on the cloak and Merlin swallowed thickly. 

He stayed there, speaking softly to the wind. He talked of the flourishing city Camelot had become in their absence. He spoke of the letters he’d gotten from his mother every few weeks. He spoke of Kilgarrah’s death. He spoke of the druid’s who sought him out of their pleads for him to join them. He spoke of his tiny home, of the small kitten he’d found that lived in the rafters. He spoke words of love to his King. He continued speaking until his throat ran dry. 

Then he stood, head bowed and arms folded behind his back under the cloak. “If I may, my Lord, I suppose it’s time for me to retire for the night.” After everything, he was still here. Still serving his master in any way he could.

-450 AD-  
The night Llamrei died was the first time Merlin really felt it. The crack spreading in his carefully constructed armor. The dark brown mare had been his since the day he’d been appointed Arthur’s manservant, and before that had been Arthur’s own, though he preferred to ride his stallion Hengroen he had loved that mare dearly. A love Merlin adapted the first time he rode her.

She had been his last real tie to his fallen King. The last intimate thread between the two. He cried himself to sleep that night, wailing his pain out to the Earth herself. He felt empty, and lost, and hollow.  
  
  
-483 AD-  
The castle was much the same it was all those years ago. It was the same empty quiet that he’d left behind that night. It was in mourning. Merlin took a deep breath as he stood in front of the chambers he thought he’d never see again. The guards outside the door gave him weary looks before he let out a sigh and pushed the door open. 

The three people surrounding the large bed stopped speaking the second he closed the door with a soft click. One by one they looked up at him, faces hard and unforgiving. He should have known, should have been prepared for their hostility. After all he hadn’t been here. Not once since they’d each been born. Not when Percival and Leon passed. Not when their mother first fell ill. It wasn’t that he was heartless. It was just that he couldn’t face it. Not after all this time. 

Not as they grew old and frail and he still looked the way he did that day at Camlann. 

“Merlin.” Gwen’s voice came soft from the pillows and the warlock’s heart broke at the sound. It was so gentle, so pleased that he’d come. That he’d come to say goodbye. “Leave us.” She told her children, voice every ounce the Queen she still was. They looked hesitant to follow her orders, the eldest looking like he wanted to argue but was cut off when she held up a trembling hand. “He is my oldest friend. I wish to speak with him without prying ears.” 

He couldn’t help the fond smile that cracked his grim expression as the boy frowned and gave a jerky nodd. Merlin moved to her side once the three were gone. “I’m so sorry, Gwen.” She smiled up at him with fondness shining in her eyes. She pressed a wrinkled hand to his cheek and shook her head.

“I know, Merlin. I know.” There was so much he wanted to say. So much he needed to say. To tell her and explain to her that it was never her fault. That she was always his dearest friend even when he couldn’t be the friend to her. He needed to tell her why but as he opened his mouth a quiet sob came out. Her eyes were watering as well as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “All these years and I’ve never once thought otherwise.” She whispered, voice gravelly with age. 

“I thought about you often, Gwen. You have to believe me when I say I always loved you, my friend.” He confessed quietly, hands fisting in the soft red and gold blankets. She closed her eyes briefly, another soft smile morphing her features. For one moment he was back, his first week in Camelot, this wonderfully kind maid asking for his friendship. A friendship he’d taken for granted after Arthur-- Merlin hadn’t been kind. To any of them. 

His own voice shocked him. He hadn’t been prepared to say anything, not now, but he knew. Now was the only time he’d have the chance. Now was the time she needed to hear it. “I need to tell you why I couldn’t stay.” She gave a small nod, barely there, but her posture told him she already knew what he was going to say. That she’d already accepted it. “I wanted to stay, Gwen, I really did. I wanted to help you. I wanted to be there… but I couldn’t. Every turn, every corridor, every room. It reminded me of him and I just couldn’t. It hurt so much, to be here without him. Every step I took in this castle, in this city, reminded me of this empty hole where my heart had been ripped away.”

Gwen’s hand slid from his face to rest against his neck, just under the red neckerchief, her thumb moving the fabric to show faded gold threads of a dragon. “I still love him, Gwen. Even after all these years, it still hurts. Even now, I look out on the courtyard and expect to see him coming back from the training field. It hurts in a way I could never fix.” 

“I understand, Merlin. Gods I do, and I know it’s hard to believe after I remarried but I understand.” Gwen dropped her hand to rest on top of Merlin’s, a far away and wistful look on her face. “Once upon a time I had felt the same you know, not of Arthur though.” Merlin jerked his head up at that and she gave him a long sad look, “I had felt the same loneliness when Morgana left. When she betrayed us.” Gwen took a deep breath and swallowed down the feelings Merlin assumed she’d long buried. “That’s the difference between you and I though, Merlin. You, you love with your whole being. Your love for Arthur has always been so undeniable and pure. I let her go so easily, I moved on and loved others. Lancelot, Arthur, Leon… but I still feel it, in the stillness of the night. I remember when she was here, when she was loving and kind.” 

Silence echoed around them. It was comforting just as much as it was painful. Like all the other final conversations he’d had with others. This one stung in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to speak but she shook her head, grey curls falling over the pillow. “I forgive you. For all you’ve done. For all you think you need forgiven for.”

“Let me heal you.” 

She just gave him a small almost pitying smile and shook her head, “No, Merlin, no. My time in this world is done. I’ve made my peace with my past, my pain. I long to be with them again.” He wasn’t sure who the ‘them’ was, Lancelot? Leon, Morgana? Arthur? The same want flared inside of himself and with it came the wash of resentment. He could never have that simple pleasure of death. Could never be reunited with those he missed dearly. “You must promise me something, Merlin.”

“Anything.”

“You must make your own peace now, and when Arthur returns to you, don’t you let him go.” She pressed something cold into his hand then and he looked down with wide watery eyes. The royal seal stared up at him even as he looked back at the dying Queen. He’d tucked it away in his tunic as he left, anguish clouding his gaze. 

It was with those words that Merlin left the citadel for the last time. The seal hung heavy from his neck, the sigil’s pressed warm against his heart.  
  
  
-572 AD-  
The sun was warm on his back as Merlin straightened up and ran a cloth across his forehead. He pursed his lips and stared at the large stone block, the shape of a massive dragon was slowly forming. He could have done it with magic. It would have been so much faster, but the idea just didn’t feel right. He cast a sad look out over the water, eyes landing on the large stone tower in the center of the lake. 

“I hope you appreciate all the hard work I still do for you, dollophead.” Merlin grumbled, picking up his chisel again and moving around to the other side. Somewhere on the wind Merlin imagined he could hear Arthur’s deep, delighted laughter. It made his breath catch and his eyes slip close. He spent the rest of the night out in the full moonlight, carving away at warm stone until the great Pendragon crest rose with the morning sun. 

Merlin laid in the grass before it, its shadow falling over him in a hollow imitation of what once was. It was almost comforting. In a way Merlin never expected.  
  
  
-LA 603AD-  
News of Camelot’s final demise had reached him one cold fall morning as Merlin trudged through the sparsely populated streets. He paused as he passed two men leaning against the perimeter fence, their voices loud and brash in the still air. The words sent a surge of sadness through him, a surge that quickly morphed to anger. “So much for tha’ grea’ city righ’?” One man chortled, “Walls camea down jus’ as fast as the Pendragon line.” 

The wooden post between the two splintered with a sharp snap and they both jumped away, eyes wide. Merlin clenched his fists and continued to stalk past. He didn’t need to hear any more of that. Over the past 200 years he’d grown numb to the rumors, the poorly recorded history. The lies. Camelot deserved better. Arthur deserved better. 

“Watch ya’self Emrys.” The other man growled, his dark eyes narrowing on Merlin’s back. He spat at the ground and both laughed as energy sparked at Merlin’s fingertips. He let the energy seep away though. He was used to the taunts by now. “It was you tha’ let tha’ king die wa’nt it?” That froze Merlin mid set. The air seemed to lodge itself in his lungs and he couldn’t breathe. His eyes narrowed and he slowly turned around, hands shaking. That was not a taunt he’d learned to handle yet. 

Both men had almost feral grins on their faces as they realised they’d struck a nerve. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin growled. The man just threw his head back and laughed, a deep disgusting thing that made Merlin’s skin crawl. 

“It was! My Gram used ta talk of this so calle’ grea’ wizard tha’ killed the king.”

His magic rose before he could stop it. It lashed out to protect himself. It shot out in so many directions, wood splintering along the fences, the well further down the road cracked, glass bottles shattered. “I did not kill him!” Merlin screamed, eyes flaring brilliant gold as the wind whipped around him, his anger fueling it. The two, as well as a handful of other townspeople who’d heard the commotion slowly backed away from him. 

Around him whispers started to raise. He couldn’t hear what they were saying over the pounding in his own ears. He spun on his heel and tore off toward the lake shore. As he ran he could feel tears stream down his face, could feel his magic lashing out at anything that got too close to him. Crazy. Insane. _Monster._

Merlin fell to his knees beside the giant stone dragon. “I’m not a monster. I’m not.” He forced out, vision blurring as he clutched at the seal hanging just over his heart. He wasn’t… He just made bad choices. He just did stupid things. His magic was growing restless as he tried to reign his emotions back in. “You don’t think I’m crazy do you?” He breathed out, voice shaky and empty. “Gods of course I am. I’m talking to a rock.” 

The wind brushed over him, caressing his arms and cheeks like a lover. Like Arthur once did right before he breathed his last. It was like he was there, reaching out in any way he could. Helping his former servant in the only way he knew how. Merlin shuddered and he folded over on himself. He was crazy. He was going insane. 

“Merlin?” He jerked his head up the second the voice spoke. Freya peered up at him from the waters edge and his mouth fell open. It’d been years since he’d last seen her. Since he’d last had anyone remember his name. Scrambling over he leaned as close as he dared, eyes frantic as he looked at her sad smile. 

“Freya?” The word came out with a puff of air, brittle in the cold morning. She nodded and reached a hand out toward him, fingertips brushing the surface but never breaking it. With a trembling hand he brushed against her reflection. “I-- I thought you’d left.”

She let out a quiet laugh though there was little humor in her tone and shook her head, “I could never leave you, Merlin. I’m of the Earth itself now, I’m always here.” She paused then as he pulled his hand back and wiped stray tears from his cheeks. “You must be strong, Merlin. Do not let them get to you. Do not let this break you.” He knew she was trying to be supportive. She was trying to help. It wasn’t though. 

How could she ask that of him? How could anyone ask that of him? He’d been through so much already. He’d been strong. He’d lived through it all. He dealt with it. He deserved to be able to lose it once and awhile. The bark of laughter that came from him ended with a twist of a snarl as he sharply pulled away from the water. “No.” it was a low growl as the wind picked up again and he could feel the magic burning in his eyes. “No. I will not. I’m tired of it. I’m sick and tired of being the strong one. Of being the only one.”

His voice was rising as a storm started to brew around him, Freya cast a wary look at the bending landscape and bit her lip. “I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve any of this!” A tree nearby exploded as his magic raced away from him. Seeking, destroying. “They take and take and take! They took everything from me!” Merlin screamed, “They took it all and have given me nothing. Nothing!” 

As the last word rang around them a final burst shot out of him, the bright flash of magic speeding across the lake before it crashed into the tall tower. Rocks crashed as it cracked and crumbled. Merlin was panting with the effort of controlling the rest of his magic as he stared at the tower ruins. Something dark and feral purred happily at the scene. Good. Merlin glanced back at the water and his heart fell to his stomach. Freya was gone. 

Had she ever even been there? Merlin wasn’t sure anymore. His anger melted away with the waves now lapping at his feet. _Merlin, you idiot._ It was brushed over him with the wind. Warm as the sun, yet leaving cold chills in him like snow. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Arthur. Everyone is gone. Camelot’s gone. I can’t--”

 _You can._ Merlin choked out a sob as he leaned heavily against the stone dragon. _You can because I’m asking you to. Because I’m telling you to._ His hands shook and his left grasped the seal again, the dragon on the top digging painfully into his palm. _Can you do it for me, Merlin?_ He was nodding aggressively before he could stop himself. Anything. He’d do anything for Arthur. He’d killed for Arthur. He’d die for Arthur. 

For Arthur, he’d live.  
\----  
The first thing that registered in his groggy sleep addled mind was the smell of smoke. Then of loud boisterous laughter. Then his eyes flew open as _heat_ enveloped him. Around him everything was burning. His house was on fire. Scrambling out of his bed Merlin grabbed the small chest he kept hidden under the bed and ran. 

It wasn’t until he was out that he dropped to the ground, eyes wide and terrified as the mob jeered at him. As his whole life went up in flames. The chest containing letters and memorabilia from a lifetime ago cradled to himself. Safe. Those precious few things were at least safe. 

Sadness washed from him in waves that fell back to the Earth as rain. It scattered the townspeople and doused the climbing flames. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to save his home. He knew he couldn’t stay anymore.

Gathering what he could salvage from his ruined hut Merlin pressed the Pendragon sigil to his lips and stared out at the lake. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”  
  
  
-CC 749AD-  
“Aithusa?” Merlin called the second he returned to the cave entrance. He’d been gone for only a few days. Trying desperately to find the Druid camp that was supposed to be in the area. He had returned empty handed though. Fear was slowly crawling inside him. He knew the fear of magic was growing steadily stronger since the fall of Camelot, but he’d foolishly hoped there was still someone out there. Someone like him. 

The small white dragon pittered out to meet him in the largest cavern opening. She blinked then chirped happily at his return. It was the closest she’d been able to get to communication that wasn’t with him using his dragonlord voice. He sat down as she came over to rest against his side. “I couldn’t find them. I couldn’t feel them.” Merlin stared at his hands as he spoke but he didn’t really see them. “They’re all gone.”

Another chirp that sounded almost anguished and he reached over to place a light hand against her neck. “We’ll be alright though, won’t we girl?” She blinked bright blue eyes and he let himself smile fondly at the dragon. “We’ll get through it.” He repeated more for himself than anything.  
\----  
The news hit him one day as he was in a small town. There was a great white beast seen. There was a huge bounty for its head. He dropped the bag of herbs he had just purchased, eyes wide as his heart stopped. Aithusa. 

Merlin knew the war on magic had all but turned to a sport to most. Creatures of magic were hunted for fame, for glory, for money. Magic users were murdered before they had a chance to defend themselves. He thought he’d hidden them both good enough. He thought no one would ever be able to find them in the ruins of the Crystal Cave. It’s history long forgotten in the passing of time. 

Oh how wrong it seemed he was.  
  
  
-852 AD-  
It’d been 3 years since Merlin had felt another magic user. It’d been 2 years since he’d seen a magical creature that wasn’t the white dragon. The hunt for all things magical had raged for so long. It was at the point of extinction. They were all but the last. 

It’d been 2 hours since he’d come back to the cave to find Aithusa dead, covered in her own sticky red blood. Merlin had fallen back out of the cave to be sick. The smell had hit him then, metallic and coppery and all so wrong. He curled up outside the cave that night, magic ruining the world around him but he was weak to stop it. 

_Merlin._ It was a whisper of warmth that did nothing for him. “I don’t need your input, Arthur.” Merlin imagined Arthur pursing his lips and slowly shaking his head. He imagined the light catching on bright blond hair. He imagined the disappointment in his beautiful blue eyes. He was sick again as he pressed his forehead against a tree. The rough bark doing nothing to ground him. 

The wind picked up around him, bringing with it a memory he longed to forget, _You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known._ “You’re not real.” Merlin muttered, over and over, as if it would change the way the words brushed over his skin. As if it would change the way his magic comforted himself. _You can get through this, **Mer** lin._  
\----

“Sorcerer.” It was bit out the same as one would say the word ‘scum’. Merlin let the word follow him out of the camp. He had thought the rumors to be true. That there were descendants of the druids still around. Still practicing magic. He’d been wrong. These people weren’t Druids. Not really. 

_You’ll find them._ Arthur’s voice murmured through him.

If the camp went up in flames behind him, well, how was he to know? Merlin shoved the guilt aside and pretended he couldn’t visualize the disappointment on Arthur’s golden face. Or taste the sadness on the tip of his tongue.  
  
  
-976 AD-  
For 3 years he continued his search, wandering the ever changing world until one day he literally stumbled into their camp. Wary expressions tracked his movements as people emerged from their tents. For the first time in so long, pure magic could be felt in the air around him. Merlin’s mouth ran dry as he held up a hand, the Pendragon sigil catching the light just so. A shocked gasp ran through the circle. 

“Emrys.” One older woman breathed before she bowed her head, the others quickly following. Merlin felt himself flush at that. He’d never really been one for other people’s adoration. He was welcomed into their group with open arms, much the same way their ancestors had welcomed him. They begged for stories of that time. They pleaded for shows of his magic. They pulled from him a hope he’d thought long dead.  
\--  
It’d been 10 years since he’d first joined them. 10 years he’d taught them, both magic and their history. His history. Albion’s history. For the first time since that day, Merlin had felt truly happy. In hindsight he should have known, he was never meant to have happiness. He was never meant to find his peace. 

The whispers began as they always did. ‘He never ages.’ ‘He doesn’t need to speak to cast.’ ‘His eyes are _gold_.’ Merlin felt the weariness creep back into his soul. He pretended not to hear. Not to see the sidelong glances they gave. He taught them all he knew. He taught them kindness he wished they’d return. It never was.

“Emrys.” Merlin looked up from where he’d been writing in a journal, recounting the last few weeks. The leader of the group, Esmelda, stood in the open door of his tent and he shut the book quickly, feather pen holding his place. “Emrys, it’s time we have a talk.” He nodded and shifted to let her sit beside him at the low table. Merlin felt the tension thicken as she did. Before she said anything he jumped in.

“They want me to leave.” 

The older woman pursed her lips but nodded once. “They grow fearful of your power, Emrys. You are not like us. They do not understand the ways of the Old Religion. They fear it.” They fear you went unsaid. Esmelda reached a hand out and laid it on Merlin’s exposed forearm as they let the silence envelope them. 

He knew the day was coming. He knew he’d grown too comfortable, too familiar. Perhaps it was time to return to the lake. “I thank you for all you’ve done for me.” He muttered, fingers playing with the seal hanging around his neck. “I thank you for believing in me.”

“You are a legend, Emrys. You are the magic of our world. More than that though,” She took his hand now and smiled softly, it reminded Merlin of his mother and he felt his heart tug. “You are human. A very special human, but human nonetheless. It was my pleasure to help you in your journey.”  
  
  
-999 AD-  
It was the turn of the century. He’d forced his body to age naturally. To blend in with the new town on the edge of the lake. He built a house that could see the dragon statue, still standing in the place Arthur had taken his last breath. 

He wasn’t sure what set it off. The fact that no one remembered magic seemed to exist. The fact that it’d been so long since he’d let loose. The fact that he’d watched everything as if behind glass. Unable to touch the world, unable to stop it from turning.

“Why won’t you give him back?” Merlin cried one night, rain was pouring around him, soaking him through. “What use is he to you anymore!” It was screamed out at the tower ruins. The electricity crackled in the air around him, his magic lashing out violently. He was so very tired. “If you won’t give him back fucking kill me too! I’m done! I’m done being your fucking puppet! I’m tired of everyone looking at me in fear. I’m tired.” 

Thunder crashed overhead as lightning struck a tree across the water. Avalon remained silent though. _Merlin._ It was demanding and forceful and not what Merlin needed to hear. Not what he wanted. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. “No!” The sound that came out with the scream was distorted and inhuman as cracks in the ground shot around him. The sound of stone splitting made Merlin jerk his head around, eyes a wild mix of blue and gold.

The gold disappeared instantly as he watched the dragon statue start to crumble to the ground. “No…” He breathed, lip trembling. “No no no no no no.” The raging wind fell on ringing ears. Merlin couldn’t hear anything as he stared at the crumbled rocks, only the barest resemblance to the dragon still present. 

Arthur’s voice didn’t speak again.  
  
  
-1200 AD-  
It shouldn’t have surprised him at this point. Honestly. All he did was pick up a spilled cup, with magic of course, but who would have noticed? No one notices small things like that, they never did. Well, apparently drunkards were more observant nowadays. “He has magic!” Someone across the tavern screamed, all eyes were suddenly turned toward Merlin and he could feel the blood drain from his face. 

It was the first time in hundreds of years that whispers of magic and sorcery were alive. It was the first time in hundreds of years that Merlin was once again hunted. He ran. From town to town, from kingdom to kingdom. 

The cuts and bruises became almost permanent features. It was soon discovered that iron was effective in restraining magic, like legends of old once proclaimed and Merlin wished he’d never let that bit of information remain. The current shackles irritated his skin and burned when his magic fought to get loose. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately if he were looking at it from his point of view, the iron wasn’t really much a stop all in his case. Sure it hurt, and sure it did tamper the instinctual magic, but he was magic itself. It could never have kept him captive for long. 

-LA 1289 AD-  
“Why are you doing this to me still?” It was screamed out into the cold winter night, “Are you having fun? Does this amuse you all?” Merlin demanded, hands clenched at his sides. “I thought we were friends, Freya! I thought you cared about me! So why do you keep him from me still!” 

The lake remained still and silent and Merlin felt his knees give out as he sank to the ground. “Give him back. Please… just give him back.”

-1298 AD-  
It was hot, and pouring and the middle of summer and Merlin was shoved against a stone wall. His arms shackled above his head, legs spread and chained apart. His head was bowed as he watched rivlets of blood and water slide down his naked torso to drop in sticky pools. He’d thought he’d been hurt before by these so called witch hunters. He’d thought he’d lived through the worst. Once again, he was so very wrong.

He’d realised a week ago he never really understood what it meant to be broken. To be in such pain and agony. They all thought it funny. They could do whatever they wanted to him, and he wouldn’t die. He grew weak as the days without food and water stretched on. He grew tense and fearful of their hungry gazes as night fell. His magic screamed in agony each time the cold iron was forced into his body. 

He screamed Arthur’s name the night the town was leveled. He watched them all crumble to the ground, his face devoid of any empathy he may have ever held as his eyes faded back to blue. No. Merlin realised he had never understood what it meant to be ripped apart. He did now though. He did, and he wouldn’t let it happen again.

-LA 1312 AD-  
“Are you okay, mister?” Merlin’s head jerked to the right and his eyes fell on a tiny girl. She looked to be no older than 8 and Merlin gulped. Her blonde hair was pulled back into two identical braids, and her bright blue eyes rivaled the morning sky. She looked like-- He stopped himself before he could finish the thought and forced himself to nod. She tilted her head slightly with a frown as she studied him. “Your magic is funny.”

A startled bout of laughter came from him as his eyes widened and he turned fully toward her. “What?” The girl tipped her head back the other way as if studying him. “What makes you say that?” She shrugged then wandered slowly over to him.

Plopping down gracefully she crossed her ankles and continued to study him. “Your magic. It feels weird. Lost? Caged in?” Merlin bit the inside of his cheek as he drew his brows together. “My name’s Annie.” She didn’t ask for his, and Merlin was almost grateful. “I’ve seen you come here a lot… Mum told me not to bother you.” The way she dropped her voice and grinned at him made his heart ache for another very similar smile. 

“Then why are you?” He asked, voice still shaky even though the tears had stopped hours ago. Annie shrugged again, but her bright eyes crinkled as she gave him another uplifting smile. It warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in so long. He felt the slight brush of magic against his skin and he knew instinctively that it wasn’t his. 

“Cause you look like you need a friend.”  
\--  
He tried desperately to tell himself it wasn’t his fault when he heard her name again, 7 years later. She’d been found guilty of practicing magic. At just 15 years old she was burned at the stake. It’d been so long since words had tasted like ash in his mouth, but sitting in front of her small gravestone, it was impossible to taste anything but. 

“I’m sorry I failed you too, Annie.”  
  
  
-1498 AD-  
“How doth you plead, sorcerer.” Merlin sighed and let his head fall back to hit the wood he was stuck to. He’d been so careful, for so long. At this point he wasn’t even sure he wanted to fight it anymore. It’d become a habit to run, to hide. It was a habit he honestly didn’t want to continue. The wood around him was being built up and he found it funny, this forced, mock trial. They were going to burn him no matter what he said. 

Merlin opened his mouth to tell them exactly that but before he could get the words out smoke filled his nostrils. He frowned down at the torch that had caught the platform he stood on, on fire, then glanced up at the minister, unamused. “Apparently it doesn’t matter how I answer that, eh?” He was trying for an unamused snark but it came out with a strangled cough as smoke filled his lungs. 

For so many years he’d had nightmares about the pyre. As the flames licked up his legs and caught his sleeves he realised he’d been oh so wrong about it. It was so much worse than anything his nightmares had ever produced. He knew it wouldn’t kill him. He knew it would hurt. Knew it would be agony, but he wouldn’t die. The pain was excruciating. He could feel his very skin burning. As the flames engulfed him and his screams filled the night air; he wished he could die. 

He wished the flames would kill him. He wished the pain, the hundreds of years of agony, would be over so simply. Gods why wouldn’t they let him just die already. The metal coins pressed against his heart burned, if he were human he’d assume they’d brand him before they melted. But he wasn’t human and he knew his skin would be unblemished at the end of it all. He knew the enchantments on all three precious items would keep them whole and safe. 

The square was empty when the pyre finally burnt out, leaving Merlin curled in a ball of ash and charred wood. He laid there, staring at the clear night sky, vision only blurring slightly at the edges. 

He was gone by day break. If anyone noticed there were no bones left, Merlin would never know. 

-LA 1523 AD-  
“It’s been years… years and they’re still hunting me.” Merlin sighed, kicking at the pebbles lining the lake bed, eyes downcast. “Uther would be pleased with their determination to kill me. I haven’t even used real magic in years.” He forced out with a hollow laugh as he paused to glance at the, now much closer, tower. In the last hundred years the lake had started shrinking, evaporating and changing with the world around it, around him. “I know you’d call me a girl for complaining but it’s just--” 

Merlin trailed off with a shrug he knew wouldn’t be seen. It’d been so long since he’d last heard the phantom voice of his King. It should come as a relief. That he wasn’t crazy or delusional, but he couldn’t help but miss it. “Truth is I miss you.” His throat choked up. “I miss your voice. I miss your stupid teasing. I miss your touch. I just… I’m so lonely, Arthur.” It was something he’d kept to himself for so long. Something he’d refused to even admit to himself for so many years. 

“I need you to come back now, yeah? I need you to…” He swallowed thickly and let his eyes fall closed as they started burning, “I’m still here, Arthur. I’m still here and I need you and I lo--.” The words were carried off in the wind. 

“I still love you.”  
  
  
-LA 1601 AD-  
It was getting bad again. Merlin could feel it on the edges of his consciousness. The desolate fuzziness that’d carried him through so many years before. The cold nothingness that threatened to take him under, but always refused when he agreed. It was a tease. A disgusting tease that Merlin was growing quite done with. 

It was this most recent bout of depression that found him sprawled in the grass along what remained of the shore of Avalon. Vacant gaze watching the stars twinkle above him as the fingers on his left hand ran absently over the De Bois sigil. It’d been 602 years since he last heard Arthur’s voice, well, what he’d like to believe was Arthur’s voice. It’d been 1,162 years since he’d last felt whole. Since he’d last felt _alive_.

It’d been over 400 years since he’d last heard from Freya. She’d long abandoned him too and the thought made Merlin angry. She’d promised she would be there for him, be there with him through it all. Yet the lake remained silent. Year after year he came. Year after year he begged her to speak with him. Year after year his pleas were met with silence. 

Dropping his hand holding the sigil to his chest Merlin let his eyes close and a long sigh brushed passed his lips. “I’ve been thinking alot lately.” He sighed to no one in particular, to anyone who was still listening. “About what happened back then. I can’t…” His brows knit together as he frowned, “I can’t remember everything anymore. It’s all run together. Emotions and thoughts and colors. I remember his face though. Clear as day. I remember how he looked that first day we met. All posh and arrogance and effortlessly beautiful. How he was so _golden_ so _radiant_ when he was crowned. How happy he was through the years.”

Merlin’s voice dropped off to inhale sharply, “How sad he looked. During times of war, of hardship. I remember how he looked that last day. He’s the only one though. I can recall others vaguely, but I can’t see the details. I know Gwen was beautiful as the summer, but I can’t recall the tone of her voice. I know Gwaine was brash and careless, but I can’t picture the exact shade of his eyes anymore.” The wind tugged at his hair slightly and made him pause. 

“I’ve forgotten them all… but I can’t forget _him_.” His eyes snapped open as he clenched his jaw. The current in him stirred but nothing happened. It’d been so very long since he’d let his magic out. Since he let himself feel. Now it rumbled under his skin uselessly, begging to be heard. He tuned it out just the same as he had been for the past 200 years. “I want to forget, Freya. I need to forget.”

“I’ve been researching. Reading. A lot of the legends they got so very wrong. I’m not sure what Mallory was thinking. Monmouth got it all wrong too, and he was there! But I found something… something interesting.” He rolled onto his side inorder to sit up fully, legs crossed and face set. “Excalibur… Excalibur could do it, couldn’t it? A sword forged in a dragon’s breath. It can kill anything.” Fingers tightened on the metal coin. “It could kill me too, couldn’t it?”

He didn’t expect an answer, it still angered him though when none came. “I need you to give me Excalibur now, Freya. I need you to let me do this. Please, I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was raising, and still no reply came. Tears were blurring his vision as he shoved the sigil away with the other and stood. “You knew. All those years ago, you knew there was a way for me to end it. For me to be with them again. To be with _HIM_ again! Yet you kept it from me!” 

Magic burst from him weakly, causing the air to shift ever so slightly before it dissipated entirely. “Look at me.” He barked out in resignation, “I’m nothing! I’m no saviour. I’m no hero. I’m no great warlock. I’m not worth the breath in my body. I need Excalibur. I need to--” He wanted to die. He needed to. He needed to see them all again. Needed to remember Gwen’s face, his mother’s eyes, Gaius’s warm smile. He needed to feel Arthur in his arms again.  
  
  
-1653 AD-  
Merlin came across it by accident. He was currently living in the city of Warwick, restoring old texts when he came across the ancient tomb. His heart stopped the second he laid a hand on it and felt the rush of magic run through him. He took the book home to his tiny flat, hiding it the best he could from prying eyes. 

Magic. Spells, potions, enchantments. Legends and histories greeted him the second he opened the book. This was it. It took almost 2 weeks to go through it all but when he reached the end Merlin knew. This was given to him for a reason. Scribbled across the last page was one simple spell. One that made Merlin’s eyes water and his hands shake. He held the seal around his neck in a tight fist.  
\--  
“I figured out what to do.” Merlin said slowly as he knelt by the remnants of the stone dragon statue. He didn’t look up at the crumbled tower as he spoke, nor did he look into the water, where what was left of the lake stretched only a few hundred meters from the center. He knew Arthur would not answer. He knew Freya wouldn’t be there. 

The hole he dug in the ground with his magic was deep, deep enough he knew no one but him would ever find the contents. Biting his lip Merlin stared at the small metal box in his hands, the lid was still open to reveal the metal coins and brass seal where they lay on folded up letters and faded red fabric. They would be safe here. He couldn’t risk losing them while he… wasn’t himself. It still hurt. 

Closing his eyes against the sudden sting he let the lid fall shut, and with whispered words the edge sealed. It would only open again when he called upon it. They would be safe. These precious tokens, his precious memories. Merlin’s cheeks were wet as he leaned over and let the box drop to the bottom of the hole with a faint ‘thud’. Another hushed cloaking spell, just for extra precaution then the box disappeared into the earth.

Merlin’s lip trembled and the ache in his chest throbbed at the sudden loss. It had to be done though. He couldn’t risk losing them. He wouldn’t. He placed a large flat stone over the spot and the Pendragon crest etched itself upon it. The delicate words ‘Once and Future’ scribed just underneath. He would remember, that much was certain. When he needed to, he would remember this place and what priceless artifacts were buried here.

Raising to his feet Merlin let his eyes open slowly to watch the sun melt down behind the hill where the ruins of the Tower of Avalon stood. Clearing his throat of the sudden tightness Merlin let out a long, low sigh. The words rang out clear in the still dusk. 

“Rhyddhau fi o'm hatgofion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhyddhau fi o'm hatgofion: Release me from my memories


End file.
